


Boys

by themantlingdark



Series: Boys [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: please pretend commenting is turned off and please don't repost





	Boys

1 Sailing

 

Frigga's lower back gives a twinge when the doctor tells her she's carrying twins. She consoles herself with the thought that she only has to go through labor once.

She spends the first trimester getting everything ready. Painting the room a soft white and putting a thick grey rug on the floor. Hanging the bright tapestries her mother made on the walls to help muffle the crying when it comes. She makes mobiles with beautiful birds and other beasts that she embroiders and stuffs, all able to be swapped out with ease so her babies won't grow bored with what they see. She paints tiny portraits of the sun and planets that are to scale and mounts them at appropriate intervals down the long bedroom hallway, hanging them at the height of her shoulder for now and intending to move them down just two feet off the floor once the twins are toddling. She sews her own cloth diapers, not wanting to put so much waste in a landfill and knowing the babies will likely be too small for the cloth diapers sold in stores, since most twins are premature. And, anyway, she didn't like any of the colors that the store-bought diapers came in: dusty pastels and ashy earth tones. The babies are due on Christmas. She'll dress them in red and green.

The twins prefer playing outside to anything they get up to in the house. There's more to see, and it changes – new flowers, fading foliage, birds, rabbits, and squirrels. And, if it's warm, Frigga doesn't make them wear clothes, knowing that the twins will just remove them as soon as she turns her back and that it's only more laundry to wash anyway.

The sandbox is their first love and their backsides are forever dusted with the stuff. They build castles and bury their legs. Carve faces and caves. Make mud and stomp around in it, feeling the grainy squelch of it between their tiny toes. Afterward, Frigga just holds them over the kitchen sink, grabs the spray hose, and blasts their bottoms clean with warm water while they giggle and squirm.

When they're old enough, Odin builds them a tree house. Loki is obsessed with sailboats, so Odin carves a pretty figurehead with long thick curls like Frigga's and seashells on her breasts. They paint her bright colors and put her on the bow of their boat. Frigga gives them a tattered old bed sheet to use as a sail and Odin shapes the wood chips at the base of the tree into waves. It gives him an excuse to use even more of them, which eases his mind – more padding to break potential falls.

On evenings when the twins are tired but don't want to sleep, they shadow their parents.

Loki drags their father to the sofa and asks for a story. Odin reads Patrick O'Brien's ocean adventures and Loki gobbles them up, humming and wiggling at the exciting parts, always fighting to remain awake and hear more. Odin knows it's time to stop when he feels drool soaking through his shirtfront. He marks their spot in the book and puts Loki to bed.

Thor follows his mother. If she's sewing, he sits and watches her hands and it puts him to sleep very swiftly. But if her back hurts or she has cramps, she takes a hot bath, and then Thor sneaks in through the steam, shucks off his clothes, and waits for Frigga to reach over the tall edge of the tub to help him climb in. He sits on her lap and leans back to set his head between her breasts and she wraps her arms around his ribs. Her limbs float slightly - just enough so that Thor can feel the difference between life on land and life at sea. And then they rest for a while, breathing together. Thor can feel the surface of the water dragging across his skin as his body rises and sinks with his mother's breaths. Sometimes he falls asleep and wakes to find himself held to Frigga's chest, with water raining off their bodies and splashing down into the bath as she stands and carries him out of the tub. She bundles him up in an enormous towel and scrubs him dry. Afterward, Thor takes Frigga's hands and runs his little raisin-fingers over her larger prune-fingers, feeling all the ridges and valleys the water made in their flesh. Sometimes he doesn't fall asleep in the bath and instead he asks his mother to tell him what it's like to be a mermaid. And her voice echoes off the tiles and porcelain and the surface of the water while she invents a secret world for him to visit with her.

The mermaid business was Loki's idea. Odin had explained about mermaids and sirens. Loki decided that they needed one and promptly nominated their mother. Frigga brought out an old emerald gown that was covered in sequins and it became her mermaid costume. She had intended to alter it to make it more modern – removing the sleeves and lowering the neckline – but, as it is, the dress makes her look as though she's entirely covered in glittering green scales. She'll never find a better mermaid costume, and the dress will never see more use, so she leaves it. Her arms weave and wheel in the air as she pretends to swim across the backyard, making her way to their boat. Then she asks what they want for lunch, or carries them off to supper, or warns that there are stormy seas ahead and then sprays them with the garden hose while she shakes a cookie sheet to make a sound like thunder.

For Christmas, Loki wants another figurehead to put on the opposite end of their boat so that it may travel in that direction as well.

“What should this one look like?” Odin asks.

“A sea serpent,” Loki says, having seen some marvelous examples out in the uncharted waters of the old maps Odin printed out for the twins to use when they're up in their tree, sailing.

Frigga gives them a wooden chest filled with temporary tattoos, jewelry, and silk scarves that she picked up at garage sales and resale shops. Pirate booty. The twins go wide-eyed at all the treasure and deck themselves out in clip-on earrings and strands of plastic pearls. In their stockings they find foam swords, cap guns, and eye-patches. Frigga sewed the last item herself with elastic straps and convex patches made of a fine mesh so that they can still be seen through – she didn't like the idea of the twins lacking depth-perception as they went climbing around in a tree house, but she understood that any respectable pirate needed an obvious and grizzly injury.

The boy two doors down sees Thor the next summer - his hair up in a ponytail tied with paisley silk and his body sparkling with jewelry - and laughs.

“You look like a princess,” the boy shouts.

Loki looks on as Thor gives the kid a pounding.

Frigga grounds Thor for a week. Thor keeps wearing the jewelry anyway.

The twins take turns rescuing each other from imaginary foes. Narrowly averting beheadings and other gruesome executions. Doing detailed drawings of the creatures that are trying to kill them.

Odin shows them Star Wars – IV, V, and VI – and the tree house becomes The Millennium Falcon. Odin carves a figurehead in the shape of a raptor and paints it white and silver.

Luke and Leia are the first twins that Thor and Loki see in a movie. It makes them feel a little famous.

They crawl under the branches of the burning bush in the corner of their yard and Thor ties Loki to its trunk.

“You can be Princess Leia, and I'll be Luke and I'll come rescue you, 'kay?” Thor says.

“No,” Loki chokes, as tears begin to fall down rapidly reddening cheeks. “We can both be princes.”

“Okay,” Thor says, frantically wiping tears from Loki's face and ultimately making it worse because his fingers are filthy. “What should I call you?”

Loki is still stuttering through sobs and it's scaring Thor a little because Thor didn't see this coming and he doesn't like it when Loki cries. The whole world stands still for Thor when Loki weeps and he feels helpless and hopeless and like nothing will never be right again. But it passes like a cloud, same as ever. Loki takes one last sniff and dips to wipe a wet nose on a dry shoulder, bound hands preventing the use of sleeves for the moment.

“You can still call me Leia,” Loki shrugs. “We're brothers.”

Thor nods and hurries off to get his Nerf gun.

Rescue consists of Loki calling out the numbers and locations of foes for Thor to dispatch (usually shrubs, tree trunks, flower pots – and Frigga will not be pleased that Thor has beheaded half her begonias with his foam arrows again – the scarecrow in Odin's vegetable garden, and various pieces of lawn care equipment) before Thor climbs back under the bush and has to untie the knots binding Loki's wrists (arguably the hardest part, but Thor refuses to just tie bows and make it easy on himself, which means he has to resort to scissors fairly regularly). Once that's accomplished, Thor takes Loki's hand and they flee to The Falcon, where Thor will receive a victory kiss from the rescued prince. That last bit is Thor's favorite. It makes him feel stronger than he knows himself to be. Older. In part because Loki always lets the kiss linger for a few extra seconds the way grown ups so often do.

And then they go sailing.

Loki tells Thor what they see while Thor lies back on a pile of cushions swiped from the patio furniture and lets Loki's words come to life behind closed eyes.

Red moons and furry creatures.

Ice planets and toothy beasts.

All the details of what theses aliens eat and do.

Loki is the best storyteller Thor knows in any form – spoken, written, or drawn. Loki makes beautiful dioramas to accompany book reports. They're always in the showcase at school. It makes Thor proud, and he points them out to Fandral and Sif and lets them know that Loki did it.

To fill their fourth direction, Thor asks Odin for a figurehead that looks like a goat, because they're his favorite animal to feed at the petting zoo. He watches them climb and leap with those tiny little feet and no thumbs and can't figure them out. He's awed by their indifference to heights. Loves the way their gait is so bouncy and their bodies are jolly and fat. Thor can't fathom how they can jump so high with those big bellies. And they have eyes like marbles that Thor envies a bit. After Odin is done with the carving, Thor spends a week painting it.

As they get older, Thor begins to learn woodworking with Odin. Loki tries, too, at first, but recognizes the increased risk of losing a finger and dislikes the guaranteed splinters. So, instead, Loki keeps to the kitchen with Frigga. Her cooking is always delicious and healthy. Loki decides to take up baking so that butter makes a more pronounced appearance in their pantry.

Odin thinks this is brilliant. He hasn't had sweets since he lived with his mother as a teen and it takes him back to those days.

Frigga insists that her husband takes up running to make up for all the fat.

The spring after they're eleven, Odin wants the twins to have their own spaces and begins emptying the spare room. He moves Frigga's sewing supplies into his own den. The light is better and all he does in there is read anyway, which hardly requires much more than a chair.

Loki insists that there's no need to split them up like this and Thor agrees, pointing out that they get along fine, which is true.

Odin says they're growing up now and they need privacy.

They still don't understand.

Their last night together in their shared space is a Thursday. Odin will move Loki's bed Friday night so that Loki has all weekend to get used to sleeping in the new space.

It's a lovely night. The moon is making the room bright and there's a breeze making the curtains billow.

Thor can hear sobbing from the other side of the room.

He climbs quietly out of bed and kneels beside Loki, taking the bare arm that's almost invisible atop white sheets.

Thor doesn't have to ask what's wrong.

“Why is he doing this to us?” Loki breathes, rolling over to take both of Thor's hands and holding them so tightly it almost hurts. “We've been good.”

“I know,” Thor chokes.

And that's the worst part. Odin isn't angry. This isn't a punishment. They didn't have a fight or start a fire. If they had, this would be something they could comprehend. Without a concrete reason, this switch from ours to mine feels like robbery to them. Privacy is something they only need from strangers.

Frigga finds them both in Loki's bed when she comes in to wake them for school the next morning. Hardly the first time this has happened. Indeed, she only ever pictures them like this. Two small bodies bound in each other's bony arms. They used to clutch each other as they slept in their crib.

They've always reminded her of Whitman.

We two boys together clinging,

One the other never leaving,

Up and down the roads going - North and South excursions making,

Power enjoying - elbows stretching - fingers clutching,

Arm'd and fearless – eating, sleeping, drinking, loving,

No law less than ourselves owning – sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening,

Misers, menials, priests alarming – air breathing, water drinking, on the turf or sea-beach dancing,

Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,

Fulfilling our foray.

It fills her with joy and sorrow in equal measure.

The twins love each other wildly – even unconsciously. The closer they are to each other, the more absorbed in each other they are. When they sleep in their own beds, the sound of the door wakes them, but when they share one bed, their sleep is so deep that Frigga has to shake them to rouse them from their dreams. This morning their eyes can barely open; swollen shut from crying. Frigga gives them a sympathetic smile and after breakfast she brings them each two damp washcloths with ice cubes wrapped inside to hold to their eyes while they listen to cartoons.

They still look a little puffy when she drives them to school.

Odin moves Loki's bed out after dinner.

That night, Thor stares at the bright paint revealed on the wall and the lighter wood of the newly exposed floor. The clean rectangle over the absent headboard where a watercolor used to hang. For the longest time, Thor had thought the painting depicted a strange face, with bright pink eyes, nostrils and lips. It was only recently that he really looked at the thing and realized it was a botanical painting. The blossoms just happened to coincide perfectly with the way a child draws a face.

It makes Thor remember the Goodyear tire logo, which he had always believed was some kind of elephant facing right, rather than a winged foot flying to the left. He hadn't known that winged feet existed. When he asked his mother, she told him all about Hermes.

Thor wants to wall off the empty space in his room. There's nothing for him to put in it. He doesn't need it. It's a waste. This whole thing is a waste. It makes Thor angry, and he questions whether his father's actions are wisdom or foolishness. He's never had cause to wonder before.

The absence of the bed is audible in the echo that now follows every bitten off whimper and choked sob that passes Thor's lips.

Loki can hear it, too – coming through the new wall - and creeps from the strange room, tiptoeing down the hall, past all the planets, and back into their room, before climbing into bed with Thor. Returning the favor of attempting to provide comfort while descending into tears.

Odin is lying awake in bed, listening. He misses the first door opening and the footsteps, but the hinge on Thor's door squeaks and Odin heaves himself up with a sigh to go fish Loki from Thor's arms.

It's like wrestling an octopus.

They're clinging to each other so tightly that Odin can't move one without moving the other, and together the twins are heavy. They ignore every demand Odin makes. He would be angry if he weren't so impressed – and if there twins weren't so comically ridiculous. He can't get over how strong they are. He has to tickle them to startle their limbs into letting go.

“It's not the end of the world, for heaven's sake, you're right next door,” Odin says, trying not to laugh at the drama of his children. “What do you think you're going to be missing? You were just going to be asleep all night anyway.”

“But we're the same,” Loki sobs.

“You'll be changing,” Odin says. “You'll see what I mean. Come on. Back to bed.”

And Odin steers Loki down the hall with his big rough hands on smooth little shoulders and then tucks Loki in tight, pushing the sheet between the mattress and box spring before kissing a damp cheek and saying goodnight. He shuts Thor's door again so that he'll hear the hinge squeak if the twins make another attempt.

Thor gets up early on Monday morning and puts WD-40 on the traitorous little piece of hardware after Odin leaves for work. He does Loki's hinges, too, for good measure.

That summer, they watch the Olympics. Loki and Thor fall in love with Misty May and Kerri Walsh. Frigga watches the twins tie a rope between two trees in the backyard and bat a soccer ball back and forth over it. When they don't stop after the Olympics end, she buys a proper net and ball. When they're still at it a month later, Odin cuts through the turf, rolls up the sod, and fills the court with sand.

Middle school is hell for Loki. The populations of three separate grade schools combine here, making it so that the majority of the faces in the halls are unfamiliar.

Calls of Is that a boy or a girl? cling to Loki's heels, spoken in tones that let Loki know the sources think they're being clever.

Thor's hair is long and shining and he's the prettiest thing Loki's eyes have ever seen, but he never gets the same questions.

Gym class is the low point of Loki's day, because it's the least structured. The teacher can't be everywhere at once. Shouting goes unnoticed, so whispers may as well not exist. But Loki hears them.

Loki starts stealing Thor's clothes; Frigga starts buying two of everything.

In the halls between classes, Loki studies the ways the other students move. The girls have more bounce in their step and their hips tend to swing. Their shoulders tend to be curled forward ever so slightly. They touch their hair as they walk side by side in rows that often prevent anyone from passing them.

The boys leave more space between each other and often walk in pairs or staggered groups. They keep their shoulders back and their chests puffed out. They always seem to hold their arms a couple inches from their sides to make themselves seem wider. Their upper bodies sway while their hips remain fixed. They take long strides and have a smooth gait. Stand with their feet at a slightly obtuse angle and their hips held forward. Hands are often in pockets. Faces are either grinning or indifferent. Laughter is loud, but infrequent.

The girls smile all the time and their faces go through a wide range of motions as they speak.

Loki practices walking like Thor at home when no one's looking. Works on maintaining a neutral expression during conversations.

The bathrooms at school are frightening, and not just from the standpoint of hygiene: there's no teacher in there to make sure everyone behaves. Loki doesn't like going between classes because the bathroom is always busy then and there will be taunts as often a not: You're in the wrong bathroom again, perv. Get out. If there's time during class when the students are allowed to begin their homework, Loki asks for a hall pass, but most often the teachers use the whole hour in explanation, so Loki is stuck listening, not wanting to be left behind.

Frigga goes out with her friend Eir at least twice a month and leaves dinner up to Odin.

“Do we have chocolate chips?” Odin asks.

It's his easily cracked code for Loki, will you bake cookies before Mom gets back?

Loki checks the pantry.

“No chips,” Loki answers. “But we have a bar of Baker's semi-sweet chocolate. If we cut it up we can have chocolate chunk cookies.”

“Oooo,” Odin says, and grabs a cutting board and knife to commence chopping while Loki microwaves two sticks of butter at three second intervals to soften them without melting them.

Odin orders pizza so that the oven is free for baking.

Frigga laughs when she walks in the door at nine, smelling cookies in the air. She and Eir had gone to a bookstore after the restaurant, and Frigga got Loki a copy of BakeWise.

Loki reads it hungrily and discovers that cooking is chemistry. It's not long before Loki is experimenting and learning all the tricks to fix the issues in other recipes. How to make the cookies chewy for Thor – bake nine minutes and add a little honey; or crunchy but not burned for Odin - bake twelve and a half minutes, turning halfway through, substitute baking powder for baking soda to cut down on browning if desired.

There's just one bathroom upstairs, and the twins turn this into their new shared space.

There isn't much time in the morning after Odin and Frigga have showered. Loki showers at night when there's more hot water. Curly hair doesn't do well with blow-drying, and this way Loki's curls are dry by morning and they only have to endure one round of heat-damage when Loki flat irons them. It takes forever, so Thor shits and showers while Loki's hair goes from Andie MacDowell to Jennifer Connelly.

Puberty makes the twins awkward and short tempered and every now and again there's a brawl. It's always late in the day when they're tired and is most often spawned by an accident: Thor spilling his orange juice on Loki's textbook, or Loki plopping down on the couch carelessly and jostling Thor's arm so that his pen slips on his paper and scrawls a jagged line across his homework.

Frigga just tells them to take it outside. By the time they get there, enough time has elapsed and enough space has become available that the fight fizzles out.

If Odin is the only one home when a row breaks out, he physically breaks it up, but Thor is always the one who gets dragged away.

At breakfast one Saturday morning, Odin asks the kids if they'd prefer to attend a private school for ninth through twelfth grades and mentions that the classes would be smaller and calmer, thinking Loki might like that.

Frigga's head snaps up, but she's got a mouth full of honeydew and can only manage an mmmph.

“No, I like public school,” Loki says instantly, though it's largely a lie.

Thor chimes in and agrees, to lend weight to Loki's stance. For him it's the truth. He knows Loki's real reasons, and knows that public school is the lesser of two evils.

The best private school in their area is a Catholic school, and the twins don't feel comfortable surrounding themselves with that. They've only been to church for the funerals of distant relatives, during which they kept locking wide eyes throughout the service, shocked by the nonsense they were hearing. And they couldn't fail to notice the endless headlines about the Catholic Church sexually abusing children and then covering it up. The teachers have more time for you. More interaction with you. More power over you. Loki has never liked authority: it's just another word for inequality. And Loki worries that the influence of religion would corrupt the science classes. And then there would be uniforms, dehumanizing and gendered. And Thor would be taken from his friends.

There is nothing appealing about this possibility.

“We're not giving money to the Catholic Church in any way, shape, or form,” Frigga says, finished with her fruit, and the twins gulp orange juice to hide their grins.

High school, as it turns out, is better. There are two public high schools for their city, so, once again, the population is split by address. Hogun is the odd man out, now, while the rest of their little posse gets to stick together.

Everyone has mellowed.

College looms larger on the horizon and they want to work harder in the hope that it will land them a ticket to a place they like.

Thor plays lacrosse in the spring and is well known to all the teams within forty miles. He's finished with awkwardness and filling out fast. His speed and bulk make him unstoppable, and his accuracy when throwing is uncanny.

Loki plays volleyball in the fall and loves it. The speed of the game is thrilling, and it's a great advantage to be so tall.

Odin takes a vacation during the fall of their junior year. He signed up for an intensive two week woodworking class, but it doesn't start until ten, so he can sleep in. Frigga opts to join him in the latter endeavor.

It's the first time in years that Odin has been home when the twins have school.

He hears their alarms going off, followed by muffled groans and the thuds of four feet hitting the floor. Two sets of steps in the hall. The bathroom door closing.

“What the hell are they doing?” Odin asks.

Frigga starts from her half-slumber and turns her head to look at her husband.

“It's Monday. They're getting ready for school.”

“Why are they both in the bathroom?”

“Because they both need the bathroom.”

“Loki needs some privacy, goddammit,” Odin grumbles, and starts getting up, but Frigga's arm flies out to block him, just as it would if one of the kids were in the front seat of the car beside her when she had to make a quick stop.

“Do you honestly think they're going to damage each other somehow?” Frigga asks, voice angry.

“No, of course not,” Odin says.

“Then what's the problem?”

Odin sighs and sinks back into his pillow.

“We have our morning coffee; they have this,” Frigga says.

“We're married. And coffee is a nice thing to share.”

“They're closer than married,” Frigga shrugs. “Twins are something else – you know that. And they never fight when they're in there. They have their little routine. And it saves them time. One of them would have to get up even earlier if they started using the bathroom separately. They barely get enough sleep as it is.”

Odin can't argue with that.

So the twins carry on as they always do.

Thor is hunched over on the toilet, elbow propped on a knee and chin in hand.

The tip of Loki's left ear is pink and stinging from a pinch by the flat iron.

“Just poop, already, God. You're going to give yourself hemorrhoids,” Loki laughs, and Thor startles. “How can you sleep on the toilet?”

“I'm so fucking tired,” Thor sighs, and Loki nods.

Thor finishes his business and flushes and Loki steps aside to let him wash his hands and shave. After that, Thor stuffs his pajamas in the hamper and slips into the shower. Loki opens the window all the way to keep the humidity down so that all the flat-ironing isn't undone.

They both wear dark jeans and black tee shirts every day. It makes doing the laundry easy and hides almost any stain. It also keeps them from having to think about what they're going to wear in the morning, because they don't have time to care.

The sight of them always makes Odin think of the early fifties and late seventies; Thor is a young Marlon Brando, Loki is the lovechild of Siouxsie Sioux and Budgie.

Frigga made them smoothies the night before and stuck them in the cold spot at the back of the fridge so they'd stay thick. She came up with liquid breakfast as a way to let the twins catch a few more precious minutes of sleep: they can drink as they drive to school.

Loki takes the wheel in the mornings since Thor is never fully awake. After Thor's smoothie is finished he often falls asleep again, and Loki has to shake him when they get to the parking lot.

Loki is always a slippery sweaty mess with exhausted arms after volleyball, so Thor drives them home in the afternoons.

In Loki's senior year, the varsity volleyball team has its best season in a decade, which is impressive, given that no one on the team takes it terribly seriously. They're all more worried about grades and sleep and college applications. They are hardly undefeated, but the games are all thrilling and their losses are close. They're playing for fun. It drives their coach a little crazy. But every now and again their heads are in the game and they move like a well oiled machine and end up slaughtering their opponents. Their last game is spectacular, and they're happy to end the season on a high note.

Thor sits far up in the bleachers with Volstagg and Fandral until everyone is finished hooting and trading high-fives, then goes out to warm up the car while Loki heads to the locker room to celebrate with cupcakes before changing into sweats. It's early November and the cold air is especially unkind if you're damp and tired. Thor doesn't want Loki to be chilled and achy.

Thor sits in the old Ford pick up their grandpa gave them and waits. He watches as the parking lot clears out until it's just a few sensible sedans that belong to staff, Sif's motorcycle, and a shiny new Dodge Charger he's never seen before.

Thor cranks the heat, puts his history book away, and stuffs his backpack under the passenger seat.

When the gym doors finally open, there's a strange expression on Loki's face – strained and stunned.

Thor sees why just seconds later, when three boys pour out the door and follow close on Loki's heels. Thor can see their lips moving and their faces leering. He cracks the window and hears all he needs.

“What are you doing on the girls' team, faggot?” the tallest boy says. “There's no way you're not a man.”

  
  
  


2 Soldiering

 

Thor kills the engine and gets quietly out of the car.

Sif had lingered in the locker room even longer than Loki, talking with the coach and gulping gatorade. The boys didn't hear her come out behind them. She keeps her footsteps soft as she shadows them.

“Yeah, dude, who do you think you're fooling?” the short boy says, reaching over and trying to grope the front of Loki's throat, searching for an Adam's apple before dropping his hand and patting Loki's chest. “You've got hairier armpits than I do.”

The boy at Loki's right starts nodding.

“Yeah, and I didn't see any titties bouncing around out there, either, bro,” he says, and yanks the lapel of Loki's peacoat.

All the buttons pop off and Loki's jaw flexes.

Loki's eyes are wide and locked on Thor's.

Thor winks.

“I've got your three, Sif's got your six, and nine is all yours,” Thor shouts, before his face splits into a vicious grin and he breaks into a sprint. Loki throws his fist out to his left and smashes the shortest boy in the nose with a merciless backhand. Blood gushes out almost instantly and the shock of it disarms the kid as much as anything, sending him down onto his ass.

Sif just steps on the back of her target's right knee and shoves him lightly in the center of his back. He pitches headlong into the asphalt and the scrape of it on his cold palms stings. It's even worse on his face after Sif shoves him the rest of the way down.

Thor slams into the tall boy like a train, lifting him off of his feet and launching him backward with momentum, sending him flying. The stranger hits his elbow hard when he lands, and then starts crying.

Thor tells them all to stay down or he'll put them there permanently.

Principal Heimdall's office faces the parking lot, so he sees everything, but can't get there in time to stop it, since the nearest exit door is three rooms down.

“What is this?” he barks, when he makes it to the scene.

“They were harassing Loki,” Thor says. “They used some slurs. And that one touched Loki's throat and left breast. And then the big one tried to pull off Loki's clothes.”

The principal is not pleased.

“What did they say?”

Thor and Sif are frowning. Loki is staring at Thor's lips.

“Word for word, please. I want it now while it's fresh in your minds and we're all here.”

Sif begins.

“That guy said 'Hey, handsome, where are you going? You like looking at all those girls in the locker room?' and Loki said, 'No,' and then the guy said, 'Oh, so you're a homo. Figures.' And then the tall one that Thor tackled said, 'What are you doing on the girls' team, faggot-'”

“'There's no way you're not a man,'” Thor chimes in, and then he and Sif repeat the rest of it, word for word, in unison.

Heimdall nods.

“Names,” he snarls, at the boys on the ground.

When they says nothing, he smiles.

“That's all right, lads, I can just call the police and ask them to run the plate on that Charger.”

“Call the cops anyway, please,” Loki says. “I'd like to file a report.”

Parents and police arrive.

Heimdall is relieved: the boys are not his students – they came to support the opposing team - so he can't suspend them. But a police report and the threat of charges being pressed carries weight, and that pleases him.

The three boys turn impossible shades of green as they sit in the school's grey conference room. They're the picture of guilt and stand in stark contrast to the rosy-cheeked and relatively relaxed trio at the other end of the table.

The boys' parents are initially up in arms over the bruised and bloodied state of their sons, but, upon learning the reason behind it, their concern turns to disgust.

It only worsens when they hear the accusations and their kids confirm every one.

Frigga drives the twins home and Odin takes the truck, picking up Pad Thai on the way.

Loki's main fear is that Thor and Sif will be in trouble for assault.

When Loki mentions this, Frigga merely snorts and says not to worry.

“Your father is a named partner in a huge law firm, hon. Relax.”

Loki remembers one of the boys' mothers bursting into tears upon learning Loki's last name. Odin lingered to speak with the parents while Thor and Loki left with their mother.

“Yeah, but Sif's dad isn't,” Loki sighs.

“Your dad will help Sif if she needs it, sweetie. Relax.”

Loki nods and lets out a slow breath.

Loki is sitting in the front seat, slumped down into it, long legs bunched up under the dash. Thor is sitting in the center in the back, leaning forward and staring at the side of Loki's face, wishing he could see the front to determine just how upset his twin is.

When they get home Odin is hovering. Checking Loki's left hand over and over. Asking about Loki's elbow and shoulder. Asking Thor about his ribs and throat and breathing.

“I've done worse during volleyball, Dad,” Loki says.

“I've done way worse in lacrosse,” Thor agrees. “I didn't even knock the wind out of myself this time.”

They eat their noodles and let the bright taste of lime cheer their tongues.

Odin leans down to kiss the top of Loki's head on his way to put his plate in the dishwasher. Thor gets a squeeze on the shoulder.

Odin doesn't leave to read in his den after dinner, but instead sits and stares at the twins as they try to watch TV.

When he finally gets up to go to the bathroom, Frigga comes over giggling and shaking her head.

“Sorry, guys,” she whispers, breathless, laughter pitching her voice higher. “I'll get him out of your hair as soon as he comes back out. I haven't seen him do this since you had strep throat when you were three.”

The twins whisper a simultaneous thank you and sag back into the couch.

Frigga intercepts her husband and informs him that her nerves could use some soothing. He apologies for neglecting her and she herds him upstairs.

“I feel kind of bad,” Loki whispers. “He's pretty freaked out. We probably should have let him smother us a little longer.”

“I wouldn't worry too much,” Thor says. “It's Friday night. He has all weekend to be weird with us.”

Loki bounces on the couch, silently cackling.

“Fuck,” Loki sighs, once he's recovered.

Thor drags his hands over his face and nods.

“You okay?” Thor breathes, and Loki can hear the way the tears make Thor's throat too tight.

Loki shuffles over and twists to pull Thor into a hug.

“Not really,” Loki admits, and Thor squeezes Loki's shoulders. “How 'bout you?”

Thor shakes his head no and cries into Loki's neck.

“I still just want to hunt them down and kill them,” Thor whispers, wetly.

“Me too,” Loki admits. “Does hating bigots make us bigots?”

“Probably,” Thor sighs, and Loki snorts and sags into the warmth of Thor's side while Thor drapes an enormous arm around Loki's neck.

“Did I fuck up and say anything stupid?” Thor asks.

“No. You're getting really good at avoiding pronouns altogether, which is pretty impressive since you never get to practice.”

“I try to practice in my head,” Thor says. “And private blog posts.”

Loki nods.

“And with Mom, I guess,” Thor adds.

“Yeah. She's good at it. And I still haven't officially told her.”

“I doubt you'll ever have to.”

Loki flops down sideways on the sofa. Thor gets up so that Loki can stretch out, then turns off the TV so that he can hear any movement on the staircase. He pulls a blanket out of an ottoman and then lies down in front of Loki and tosses it over their bodies. For a long time they just rest there, breathing, the way they did when they were little and wouldn't admit they needed a nap. They notice how loud the ticking of the clock is when the house is quiet. Hear the furnace and refrigerator coming on and off and the dead leaves fluttering against the windowpanes when the wind gusts.

“I spent so longing wanting to be read as a man,” Loki whispers. “And every time it's ever happened it's been in the most nightmarish ways imaginable.”

Thor nods quickly and starts crying again.

“And, fuck - if that's what men are, then count me out,” Loki sobs, and Thor's arms wrap around him and pull him in tight.

“Should we both be women then?” Thor sniffles.

“Probably,” Loki snorts, and they lie there rubbing each other's backs.

“What about Dad?” Thor murmurs. “Think you'll ever tell him?”

Loki takes a deep breath and lets it out very slowly.

“I don't know,” Loki admits, shaking his head. “It's a boat I don't want to rock. And I'm not even sure if it's for his sake or for my own anymore. Because it's not like he's ever pushed me toward anything. That's the weirdest part. He's never tried to change me. He worries about me a little more than you and gives me more affection... but that just makes me feel like you're the one losing out. There's a weird sexism to it. From my end, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know he thinks of me as his baby girl,” Loki says.

Thor nods immediately and laughs softly.

“And it's funny,” Loki continues. “Because I hate the thought of taking that away from him. And I don't want to lose it, either. I'd prefer it if he'd start doting on you, too, rather than stop doting on me.”

“It's never made me feel jealous or left out,” Thor admits. “But that's probably just because I never had any expectation that he'd be that way with me... which is sexism again, I s'pose.”

“Mm. It's nice to be treated with tenderness. And men are told they can give their affection to women. He feels comfortable with me because he thinks of me as a girl. I think I used to overthink it... tried to make it into an insult – to interpret it as him thinking I was weak and needed to be babied. But, lately it feels like to deny a gender... it makes it seem like I think there's something wrong with being a woman. Like I find it insulting. And there isn't, and I don't. I did when I was little... but, now, when I fight it, it feels like I'm falling for a trick.”

“How so?” Thor murmurs.

“It's like... vampires don't exist, but we have this word – vampire – and this whole mythology around them. It's the same with man or woman.Masculine or feminine. Just ideas piled on ideas. But there's nothing there underneath all the words. There are so few things that actually belong to one sex exclusively. Every time I say he or she I feel like I'm repeating a lie.”

“A hundred years ago they dressed baby boys in pink,” Thor murmurs, nodding.

“Exactly,” Loki says. “It's arbitrary. Just fiction.”

“So... you don't believe in gender anymore?”

“Only as convention. Language. Performance. Illusion.”

“Do we need new words?” Thor asks.

“No,” Loki sighs. “The words will always be wrong... unless we all just start saying 'human,' and I'm not going to hold my breath for that. If you ever have to say she about me, just do it. It's biologically accurate. And I'm not coming out any time soon – I'm not even sure there's anything to come out of anymore. When it's just us, you call me Loki. It doesn't get more accurate than that.”

Thor nods.

“Would you still call yourself a man?” Loki asks.

“God, how can I?” Thor laughs, and then sighs. “I think of myself as a he, though. It's second nature now... but I don't have to do it the way those assholes did; I can be a man and still be a worthwhile human being.”

Loki nods, smiling.

“What about you?” Thor says.

“I'm whatever you are,” Loki whispers.

“I'm your brother,” Thor breathes.

  
  
  


3 Stretching

 

Odin wasn't entirely wrong when he split them up - the twins were changing.

The first time Loki noticed it was during summer vacation before sixth grade.

He and Thor were out on the screened porch after dinner. They liked to lie on their bellies in the room and watch the storms roll in. The meteorologists were predicting a big one that evening.

The porch had a clear view to the west, so they could see everything, and sometimes gusts of wind would blow the rain through the screen, misting their skin. If it was night, they'd turn off all the lamps in the house behind them so that the flashes of lightning shone brighter and they'd oooh and aaaah and sometimes jump at the loudest cracks of thunder, eyes going wide afterward. If it was late enough at night, they'd bring piles of pillows and blankets with them, make a fluffy nest, and then sleep next to the thunderstorm. It was their free pass to share a room again. The floor was concrete with berber carpet on top, so it was fairly firm and a bit itchy. They'd open a sleeping bag and pile it with comforters and lie on that to spare their skin and pad their bones. It had always been enough before, but this time, when Loki stretched out on his stomach, his nipples ached beneath his weight. He thought he had bruised them climbing a tree and stuffed a pillow under himself to spare them, but it wasn't a big improvement.

By the end of the year, the tender little nubs were budding into breasts. Loki was relieved that Thor didn't have to see the way his body was betraying their brotherhood. He could hide the puffy glands behind loose shirts and a closed bedroom door.

“What kind of bras do you want?” Frigga whispered, ducking into Loki's room before heading out to shop.

“The kind that will make them go away,” Loki said, woefully, staring down at his chest.

Frigga nodded and came home with sports bras. Later, she sewed him some bandeau bras that were so perfect Loki told her they were all he ever wanted to receive for Christmas for the rest of his life.

Loki's period came a year and a half later.

“Do I seem different?” Loki had asked in the bathroom that morning, after waking with blood in his underwear. “Have I been weird?”

“No, why?” Thor asked.

“I got my period,” Loki whispered.

“Want me to get Mom?” Thor said, and Loki nodded.

Frigga brought a little kit she had put together over a year before, with lots of options for Loki to try – pads, liners, and tampons of all shapes and sizes and a little bottle of lubricant to make it easier to use the tampons.

The blood and cramps were inconvenient and painful, but there was no outward evidence of the thing, so Loki minded his period far less than his breasts.

Ibuprofen and tampons became his favorite inventions.

After high school, Loki begins the B. A. program at Kendall College's Culinary Arts school. He tests out of the first year of Spanish, which lets him take more baking courses, and they have independent study options available by sophomore year, so he'll be able to get what he wants from the school. Even after scholarships, he's horrified by the expense, but Odin is footing the bill and says not to worry about it. Employment is now allowed, but only insofar as it doesn't interfere with school.

Math comes as naturally to Thor as breathing, and he can keep up with it on his own. He has always been obsessed with history, but he can get books on Amazon, and sitting still in classrooms has always made him itch. He's used to educating himself and he likes it that way. He remembers things much better when he finds his own way through them.

The one thing you could always have in their household was a book, regardless of cost. They had a communal Amazon account, signed up for prime shipping, and got their money's worth. Anything they couldn't get through the library, they would order. UPS was at the door at least once a week. It was the only extravagance under their roof. When the boys were about sixteen it occurred to them, rather abstractly, that their father made ludicrous amounts of money and that they were, most likely, very wealthy. But their house was modest and their cars were practical. When Thor got his driver's license, he asked Odin if he could apply for a job at a local bowling alley. Odin said no. He said school was Thor's job and he'd only be young once, so he shouldn't waste it working. That he'd be worrying about employment soon enough.

Thor wants to become a carpenter, so he begins the four-year apprenticeship program through the United Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and America.

Loki opts to live just off campus, wanting privacy. Thor rooms with him, not wanting to be without his brother if it can be avoided.

They want the opposite of what everyone else is looking for in an apartment – a two-bedroom with tiny bedrooms, a tiny bath, and an enormous kitchen – so they get a good deal. The landlord feels a little guilty for advertising the unit as a two-bedroom, because it isn't technically true, so he knocks down the already-reasonable price when he sees Loki raise an eyebrow. The owner has installed sliding wall panels to close off what would have been the living room, thereby building the second bedroom. The place has huge windows and great light. It's the owner's sole property – just the one apartment built over his garage in a quiet neighborhood close to campus, and he's a pediatrician, so it's not his sole source of income. Thor and Loki sign the lease then and there.

Loki gets a twin bed, and Thor wants to scream or cry. He can't decide which, so he does neither.

Thor gets a king sized mattress and builds the frame himself, putting drawers beneath it so that he doesn't have to get furniture.

Most boys are still a bit small in high school, but in college they begin to fill out. In Loki's mind, he's growing with them. Tall and broad and strong. Like his brother.

But, in reality, Loki's bones are grown now. He is well over six feet tall, which is better than he had ever let himself hope, but he will never be as broad as his brother. He does pushups and hefts dumbbells every morning, but bulk doesn't come. Just lean muscle.

And still, he forgets. In his head he is taller and broader than he thinks. When he sees photographs of himself, his appearance is always a surprise. Narrow ribs. Delicate hands. Big eyes. Long legs. A tiny waist, making his hips look even wider than they are – they're narrow for a female, but his miniscule belly spoils the effect. His shoulders are relatively broad, but beside Thor's they look petite.

Loki reminds himself that everyone looks petite beside Thor and, since he is almost always photographed beside his brother, the comparison is inescapable.

Loki knows Testosterone would make it easier.

He'd see results faster from all his exercise. Increased muscle and decreased body fat if he could rein in the increased appetite.

No more menstrual cycle.

And if those were the only changes, he'd do HRT in a heartbeat.

But of course it couldn't be that easy. Nothing ever is.

It's like puberty all over again, so acne is an issue.

The hair on your head is likely to thin, and Loki's hairline is already too high for his liking.

Your breasts soften and shrink - and, therefore, sag.

You sweat more, and smell like a man.

Your skin gets oilier and coarser and your veins show.

You grow facial hair.

Your voice deepens.

Your clitoris enlarges.

Your bad cholesterol is likely to increase.

You can't really stay in the closet when your body is outing you to everyone all day.

And the long-term effects have not been thoroughly documented and studied.

Increased risk of endometrial cancer is a possibility, and who knows what else.

Loki doesn't like any of those things.

And Loki likes his voice. It's low and musical with the hint of a purr in it all the time.

And the change is permanent. You can stop taking the testosterone, but you'll never get your voice back.

Loki loves his clitoris. He can have orgasms all day. The thought of altering it in any way worries him.

And Loki doesn't actually dislike his face. His features are already strong. His skin is smooth and fine. Puberty was kind to his complexion so there are no pocks on his cheeks. Testosterone would make his lips even thinner, which has no appeal – he wants there to be something left to kiss.

And he hates facial hair – when Loki was little, Odin started growing a beard; Loki refused to accept any kisses from his father until the beastly thing was gone (ten minutes later). When Thor came back from a camping trip sporting two weeks' worth of whiskers, Loki told him it was an insult to the face their mother gave him and Thor shaved it off the next morning.

Top surgery intrigues Loki, and he's saving up for it. Insurance won't cover it, so, if it turns out to be something he wants, he'll need the money to be there. He buys only necessities and lets his bank account grow. His breasts are small enough that he'd probably be a candidate for peri-areolar mastectomy, which would be less likely to interfere with sensation in his nipples and would barely leave scars.

At Christmas Odin commissions Loki to make favors for the firm's holiday party.

Loki does truffles inspired by the primary characteristics of different regions of scotch; Islay, Speyside, Highland, and Lowland. They're a hit, and orders for more trickle in from Odin's coworkers, padding Loki's bank account and keeping him in practice with confectionery.

Over the summer, Loki is nocturnal. He works from ten pm to two am making the next day's desserts at the trendy local restaurant he's been working at all year, but he also picks up a four am to noon shift at an independent bakery.

Thor has become a morning person now that his bones are done growing, and thrives on very little sleep; Loki begins to sleep a lot because it lets him fill the little free time he has with peaceful mindlessness.

Thor's job means he has to start wearing heavy Carhartt work clothes and steel-toed boots. He wishes there were more stylish options and wonders if the manufactures are deliberately making the clothes so unattractive.

Loki spends his school days in hot kitchens and has a plain black uniform that he must wear there, but at the bakery he can wear what he wants. He's tall enough that he often has little choice but to buy men's clothes, though he does find that the most flattering skinny jeans are women's Levi's. He looks best in the colors of the sea – grey, blue, and green. He buys button-downs in ocean tones, charcoal trousers or dark jeans, shiny oxfords and bright sneakers, and jewel tone silk ties with tiny animals on them.

The summer after they graduate finds the temperature reaching record highs nearly every day.

Loki is finally old enough to tend bar at the restaurant he's been working in for the last three years. He quickly learns that the more sharply he is dressed, the better his tips will be - from men and women alike. The balance in his bank account climbs quickly. When he cuts his hair short so that it falls just below his ears, he notices that people stare at him with looks he's never seen before.

He makes elaborate jello shots, flavored like famous cocktails, and they're a popular option on hot summer nights because they're cold, but they're not watered down by ice. Loki tests these concoctions at home in their kitchen. Thor is his guinea pig.

At eight-thirty most evenings, the brother's eat together before Loki's shift at the bar. It's breakfast for Loki and late dinner for Thor.

Thor stares at Loki while they eat their gazpacho.

“What?” Loki asks, unable to ignore the attention any longer.

“I like your haircut,” Thor says, and Loki snorts, because that was the last thing he expected Thor to say. “I was always surprised that you kept it so long in high school.”

“Yours was long,” Loki shrugs. “And I liked being able to tie it back for games. If it was short then all the sweating and running around would have made it a big frizzy pouf.”

“You look like a poet with those curls,” Thor says, smiling.

“You look like a poem. Pretty sure you win.”

Thor jostles Loki's legs with his own under the table.

Loki doesn't join the communities. During pride week he realizes that Thor didn't join either.

“You never go to the parades,” Loki says, on a Sunday night as they sit up eating the green tea ice cream Loki made.

Thor nods and lets his ice cream melt on his tongue, slowly flooding his mouth.

“When you introduce me, do you say, 'This is my gay brother Thor'?”

“No,” Loki snorts. “But now I might have to start.”

They giggle and spoon more ice cream into their mouths.

“It's not who I am,” Thor shrugs. “I take pride in my work, because that's something I choose to do well. And I'm not ashamed of myself, but I wouldn't throw myself a party for having blond hair or being tall...”

“You've never said you're gay,” Loki murmurs. “You only said you like men.”

“I don't like labels. Few things are fully black or white. Almost everything is a shade of grey. If the first thing you said to any person who spoke to you was, 'Please use ze and zir,' or, 'Please use male pronouns,' or 'I'm a homosexual,' it would tell them something about you. Make gender or sexual orientation the most important thing about you. It would separate you. If I call myself gay or bi or pan, I'm putting myself at a remove and I'm giving one part of myself priority over everything else. Separate isn't equal, right? That's been established... so, if I separate myself into a category... I feel like I'm complicit in my own inequality. What's between my legs, who I love, how I love them, and who I am to them is nobody's business. I'm a human being. All that counts is whether or not I'm nice.”

“Mmm,” Loki agrees. “I'm still going to introduce you as My gay brother Thor for the rest of my life now, though.”

Thor shoves him.

The following Saturday, a customer at the restaurant asks Loki out, which Loki considers a red-flag, but he accepts anyway, though his expectations are low. Sean isn't his type, physically, but Loki tries not to judge books by their covers.

They decide to have lunch the next day, since Loki has it off. Loki only half expects Sean to remember their plans given the number of drinks he had.

They meet at a sporty place (another red-flag in Loki's book), but the weather is nice enough that they can sit outside, so Loki gets a table on the patio out front and gives the man a nod when he arrives.

Loki sees his date's expression shift upon seeing him in daylight while sober.

“Hi,” Loki says, standing and shaking Sean's hand before they both take their seats.

“So, what kind of a name is Loki?”

And Loki knows that what Sean really means is are you a man or a woman?

“Norse,” Loki answers. “My family's Norwegian, which is also why I'm four inches taller than your average American male.”

Loki is five inches taller than Sean.

“So, are you a tranny, or a faghag?”

Loki crosses his legs and pushes up on the underside of the table with his knee, tilting it toward his target. Then he pours his glass of ice water onto it. The table is perforated steel, but it's covered with a tablecloth which prevents the drink from draining through, so it all runs right into Sean's lap.

“Why don't you fuck off and die?” Loki chirps.

“Fuck you, freak,” Sean grumbles, shaking the water from his front as he rises and leaves.

Thor abandons his post on the steps two doors down. When Sean passes him, he leans in to growl, “And the horse you rode in on, asshole,” and then heads over to join Loki at his table.

“Still wanna eat lunch here?” Thor asks.

“No,” Loki says, shaking his head. “Let's go home and have BLTs.”

“Excellent,” Thor says, and Loki pins five bucks beneath the salt shaker in apology to his server for spilling water and then splitting.

Thor makes the toast and tears the lettuce while Loki fries bacon and slices tomatoes.

They assemble their sandwiches, adhering the top slice of toast with a heap of mayonnaise, and sit down with happy sighs.

“Can I tell you my fantasy?” Loki says, licking bacon grease from his lips and leaning back in his chair.

“Mmhmm,” Thor hums, with the last bite of his third sandwich still stuffing his cheeks.

“So, instead of spilling the water in his lap, what I wished I'd done, was reenact that scene from Charade with James Coburn.”

Thor starts laughing.

“Just flicking lit matches at him,” Loki says. “Over and over, until I ran out.”

“That would have been amazing,” Thor chuckles. “Right until the cops showed up.”

“What about you?” Loki asks. “Any dating successes?”

“Not exactly successes,” Thor sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You remember that gorgeous guy I told you about? The one who was always getting lunch at the falafel place by my job site?”

“'The Brick Shithouse,' I believe you dubbed him?”

“That's the one. His real name is Steve. So, we started talking, obviously, and it turns out he's a sweetheart – like, bring him home to Mom and marry him level perfection. I was being pretty flirty so there wouldn't be any misunderstandings and he's a little more reserved, but when I asked him where he lived he said, 'Well, I used to live in Boystown...' and I was like, Fuck yeah! Cutie likes dick! So the next time I saw him I asked him out and we went on a date the same night. Got dinner and drinks and talked about movies and had a great time and then made out in my car in front of his apartment for, like, four hours. Went dancing for our second date, which was that first night I didn't come home. And then on our third date he apologized and told me he was taking a government job in New York and he only had two more weeks in town.”

“Fuck,” Loki breathes.

“That's exactly what I said,” Thor murmurs, shaking his head. “But we kept going out until he had to leave... so that's why you didn't see me much for two weeks.”

Thor's eyes are shining now and Loki is kicking himself for not asking Thor about this sooner. Thor had seemed down, but Loki had been busy working both his jobs and trying to stay in practice with all the techniques that were covered in his cooking classes and he didn't take the time to check in.

“You loved him,” Loki whispers.

Thor squeezes his eyes shut tight, spilling his tears down over his cheeks and pursing his lips as though he's preparing words, but he ultimately says nothing.

“I'm so sorry,” Loki breathes.

Thor sniffs and then tips his head back and lets a long breath breeze out between his lips.

They sit there in silence for several minutes before Thor huffs a tiny laugh, still staring at the ceiling.

“And then, a week ago, Jane and Darcy took me out to cheer me up. So we were at The Duke of Perth ordering drinks and this guy came over to me to introduce himself and...”

Thor starts laughing and then groans and puts his face in his hands before continuing.

“He held out his hand and said, 'Tony Stark, total top,' which was bullshit, by the way - that boy bottoms, too – and I said, 'Well, then my cock would be wasted on you.' And he just stood there with his hand held out and his mouth hanging open and Jane and Darcy's eyes were the size of elephants. And then our drinks came, thank Christ.”

Loki has slid out of his chair and is on the floor, convulsing and wheezing.

“Holy shit, Thor,” Loki giggles. “I should just follow you around all day with a video camera. You're a fucking goldmine.”

Loki goes to bed at two pm instead of staying up late with his brother.

Thor can hear his brother's footsteps pacing the room. Hear him closing the blinds and curtains. See the two shadows in the gap beneath the door that mean Loki is standing in front of the mirror that hangs on the back of it.

Thor walks over and raises his hand to knock, but his brother's choked, “Goodnight,” halts his hand before his knuckles hit the surface. He stands there with his fist hovering half an inch away from the wood for a full minute, listening to Loki's bony feet padding across the hardwood floor and the mattress springs coiling up as he climbs into bed. He can hear the quick wet breaths of Loki's weeping.

Thor slides his pseudo-bedroom door aside and throws his clothes in the hamper.

He feels like an asshole for bringing up Steve. Loki had a shitty day, and he laughed it off, but Thor knows that that's how Loki pretends to cope these days. Loki once told Thor he sees his life as a cosmic joke and he laughs because he's in on it.

Thor wants to know how Loki really copes. If he copes. If having a cry on the worst days is enough, or if Loki cries every day and Thor just hasn't noticed. Or if he does something else.

And Thor wants to know what Loki's real fantasies are. Not the ones about flicking lit matches at the men who hurt him, but the ones about the things that would bring Loki pleasure. Thor often sees Loki stroking his neck or tracing his own jawline while he cooks, and he wonders of that's one of them. The thought makes Thor's throat go tight. That Loki could want something so simple and still be bereft of it.

  
  


4 Eating

 

When Loki was younger it was the little things that shook him the most.

How Odin began to object to the twins being naked together once they got into grade school when he had never stopped them before.

How Thor was allowed to go topless when he was not.

How Thor always got in more trouble for their fights.

How he got hugs and kisses but Thor only got claps on the back.

How he loved baking but often hated loving it, because it wasn't something boys were supposed to do.

But now it's the little people that hit Loki hardest: the tiny children that pass him in stores and on the street tugging their parents' sleeves and asking, “Is that a boy or a girl?” Struggling to fit the strange shape into the appropriate compartment. Seeking to identify. Tick off the box. Learning the wrong lessons before they can even write their own names.

Thor has been on all of Loki's dates.

The best one so far resulted in a second date, which ended up falling on a very hot day, so Loki wore short sleeves. The man noticed how long and slender Loki's upper arms were and said, “Holy shit. You're a chick.”

“Biologically female, yes.” Loki had answered.

“We're wasting each other's time,” The man said, and Loki had nodded and walked over to Thor's table.

Thor could see Loki's nostrils flaring and his face getting red, but he didn't mention it, not wanting to give Loki a nudge that would shatter his facade, knowing how hard Loki was working to maintain it – taking deep, measured breaths and looking desperately at his surroundings for distractions.

They finished their iced coffees and went home. Loki went to bed early again.

August is murder. The temperatures soar and the coolest hours of the day – early morning – are lost to Loki because he spends them in the bakery, surrounded by ovens. When he walks home at noon, the streets look like they're covered in boiling puddles that evaporate as he draws near.

Dinner with Thor is the highlight of Loki's day – though technically it's Loki's breakfast. Thor smells like sawdust and Old Spice. He always has yesterday's dishes done. Often has the apartment clean - even when it was Loki's turn do it if Loki forgot or didn't have time. Everything is settled and Loki can relax. Sometimes they rant about their days or trade funny stories and gossip. Sometimes they just eat in easy silence, hunched over the table on one elbow each, lazily eating whatever meal Loki made them. It's been hearty salads all summer because Loki can't bear to heat up the kitchen. They eat in tees and boxers. Frigga would spank them for it, but this is their home, so they get to make their own rules – or neglect to.

Thor washes up while Loki dresses for his shift at the bar. Loki always says goodnight on his way out the door.

The restaurant is comfortable enough if you're sitting still and sipping cocktails, but if you're bustling back and forth fixing drinks and cashing out tabs, you break a sweat pretty swiftly.

When Loki's shift at the bar ends on Saturday night it's still eighty-six degrees outside even though it's well after midnight. By the time he gets home, his boxer briefs are soaked through with sweat, he's loosened his tie, untucked his shirt, and opened its top three buttons. Sweat is trickling down his spine and sternum from beneath his bandeau.

When he gets inside he finds Thor asleep on the floor in just his underwear, directly beneath the ceiling fan in the kitchen. The only light on is the dim one over the sink.

Loki takes a shower so cold it makes him shiver, but he's sweating again by the time he has his hair combed and his moisturizer on.

Sunday and Monday are his days off, so he doesn't have to go to the bakery. He can relax.

He feels dehydrated and dizzy, so he heads back out to the fridge.

“Thor?” Loki says, softly, not wanting to startle his brother awake by turning on the blender.

“Mmm?” comes the groggy reply from the floor.

“I'm gonna make a smoothie. You want one?”

“Yes, please.”

Thor gets up to sit at their small second-hand dinette and to see what kind of smoothies they'll be having.

Loki grabs peanut butter, raspberries, ice, milk, and bananas, tosses them all in the blender, and runs them through the ice crusher.

But Thor doesn't notice.

Because Loki has his shirt off.

He's wearing loose cotton boxers, like Thor, and nothing else.

Thor stares. He hasn't seen his brother's body like this in eleven years. He studies the curves of the shoulder blades as they shift with Loki's motions. Marvels at Loki's narrow ribs and tiny waist. Wishes he could reach across the kitchen and poke the little dimples at the base of Loki's back.

When Loki turns, Thor is careful not to stare at anything but Loki's face.

Loki hands Thor a glass dripping with condensation and filled to the brim. His fingers feel warmer than Thor remembers them being.

“Thanks,” Thor smiles.

“Is this okay?” Loki asks.

Thor takes a sip and hums, nodding.

“Peanut butter and jelly smoothies are my favorite,” Thor says, but Loki shakes his head no.

“I mean... my ensemble,” Loki says.

“Of course it's okay,” Thor answers, briefly frowning at the question before his eyes go wide. “Oh fuck, I never even asked. Jesus, I'm sorry - is it okay that I've been wandering around topless all this time?”

“And bottomless,” Loki amends. “And, yes, it's fine.”

Thor groans in relief and Loki giggles.

They slouch at the table where they sip their smoothies and sit up chatting until they're both sleepy.

Thor is trying to rein in his mirth, but to finally see Loki unashamed – moving freely in his lovely body for the first time since they were boys - makes something flutter behind Thor's ribs.

He wants to pick Loki up and spin him around the room, but he's not sure how Loki would feel about having his bare breasts crushed against Thor's own naked chest.

Thor can't resist at least a little celebration, though.

When Loki toddles toward his room to read, Thor intercepts him with an arm slung over Loki's shoulders and then he pivots to stand before his brother. Thor's fingers curl around the back of Loki's neck while he leans in to set their foreheads together. Their skin is hot and damp and they stick to each other slightly.

Loki starts laughing.

“You've been grinning like an idiot for the last hour,” Loki teases. “I didn't know you were so desperate for a peek.”

Thor snorts and shakes his head, skull rocking against Loki's own as their eyebrows brush together.

“I'm so proud of you,” Thor breathes, squeezing Loki's nape in a fond goodnight and pressing his grin to Loki's cheek.

Loki can feel the damp oval on his skin from Thor's kiss. He wishes Thor wore lipstick so that he'd be able to see the thing - love and joy painted onto his face in a color picked out by his brother.

Loki is in bed reading on Monday morning when Thor leans in Loki's door and says he might be late for dinner because he has an errand to run.

Loki fixes himself a tuna salad sandwich at noon and afterward he listens to Jeff Buckley until he falls asleep. He fell in love with the opening notes of Last Goodbye upon the instant he heard them. It took him half the song to puzzle out whether the vocalist was male or female. He bought Grace their freshman year in college and first played it in his room on a rainy night. It lured Thor over to linger in his doorway.

“Who is this?” Thor had said, almost to himself.

“Jeff Buckley.”

“If he's any good live and he's touring, we should go see him.”

“Incredible live. I've watched every youtube video I could find. There's a gorgeous cover of 'I Know It's Over.' But he died when we were five.”

“Fuck. Seriously? How?”

“Drowned.”

“Jesus. Shelley-style.”

“I know. He looked kind of like Keats... and James Dean.”

When Loki wakes up at nine thirty that night he finds an air conditioner perched in their living room window. Thor is on the floor beneath it in his underwear, arms and legs akimbo, snoring softly.

The sound of Loki's door shutting wakes Thor.

Loki comes out briefly to use the shower but disappears again immediately afterward. He had his towel wrapped all the way around his body, not just his hips. He should be back out in the kitchen eating breakfast, but his door stays shut.

Thor climbs to his feet.

“Loki?” Thor calls, knocking softly. “You have to leave the door open if you want it to cool your room off. The low tonight is going to be eighty-five and the high tomorrow is supposed to be a hundred and three.”

Thor hears feet pounding across the room and then the door flies open, sucking in the air from the living room and ruffling Thor's hair. Loki is barely dressed, wearing boxer briefs and a thin tee shirt.

“I thought you said it was okay,” Loki chokes, face red and eyes wet.

“What?”

“I spend one night in my skin, and the first chance you get you're running out to get a fucking air conditioner so I can keep my clothes on and you won't have to look at me.”

Loki tries to slam the door, but Thor throws his arm out to block it and the wood bounces back, shooting open again. Thor takes two fast steps and stops his stormy brother with his left arm around Loki's waist and his right across Loki's collarbones.

Loki is shaking and thrashing.

Thor cranes his neck and kisses the side of Loki's face, finding it sticky with tears and too hot against his lips.

“Shhhh,” Thor soothes. “Breathe, will you? Jesus, Loki, I didn't lie to you. I don't care what you do or don't wear. But I know you can't sleep for shit when it's hot like this. You never could. I just wanted you to be comfortable. The bags under your eyes have bags under their eyes.”

Loki exhales slowly and his muscles gradually slacken.

They stand there in silence, panting and coming down from their adrenaline highs for over a minute.

“I was gonna ask if you'd like to move your mattress out there under the air conditioner,” Thor whispers.

They don't have a living room, since their landlord converted it into the second bedroom. There's just enough space in front of the window next to the kitchen for a couch, but neither of them felt like buying one. Loki's bed would fit there perfectly.

“Yeah,” Loki says, finally. “If you don't mind.”

Thor nods and heads over to pick up Loki's mattress and haul it out. Loki grabs the pillows and blankets.

They arrange everything and Loki moves his phone charger to the outlet by the foot of the bed.

“Drink extra water,” Thor says. “The AC will dry you out.”

Loki nods and goes off to get dressed.

He stops in Thor's bedroom at three thirty in the morning to kiss his sleeping brother goodbye before he leaves for the bakery.

When Thor gets back at five thirty on Tuesday afternoon, Loki is still sleeping. His body is supine and splayed out on his tiny bed, naked with the sheets kicked down past his feet and his arms thrown over his head. Thor spots the discarded boxer briefs, bright green on the honey-gold oak floor. He sees the four shocks of black, loud against the whites of cotton and skin: Loki's hair on the pillow, with curls like the waves in a Hokusai; the twin tufts in his armpits, framing the gentle curves of his breasts; and the hazy triangle of pubic hair.

Loki's legs are dusted with fur, but it isn't terribly dense, and at this distance it's barely legible.

It's the underarm hair that always holds Thor's attention. Loki caught hell for it in middle school. He wanted to be seen as a boy, and the hair on his body caused students to call him one. But they did it to be cruel – sneered it and sang it loudly to each other in the halls - so that even when Loki got what he wanted, he wasn't meant to enjoy it. Sometimes they'd skip calling him a man and accuse him of being a beast. Not even human. Some sort of monster, blurring lines they were all desperate to enforce lest doubt be cast on their own statuses. They were all trying so hard to listen to the right music, wear the right clothes, have the right faces, say the right things to the right people, and think the right thoughts.

Loki actively failed every social test.

So did Thor, but no one ever held it against him.

Loki could never decipher whether it was because Thor was big enough to clobber them, or if it was because his brother is almost objectively beautiful and likable. And male.

Either way, it stung to have so many strangers forging a difference between himself and his brother – building a wall based on their bodies.

Frigga never shaved – she said she wasn't going to fall for Procter & Gamble's trick to get her to buy their products by pelting her with shame – so Odin thought nothing of it when Loki followed suit.

To Thor, hair has always had feminine associations - soft and secret and sweetly scented, like his mother's miles of curls. It's why he keeps his own long - a way he can make himself more like her. Body hair is still hair and, therefore, feminine to him. It makes him think of sneaking into the bath with Frigga when he was a boy and feeling the hair between her legs against the base of his back as he sat in her lap. Or of watching her as she hung the sheets up to dry on the line while she wore a sleeveless sundress, seeing the little shadows in her armpits as the bedclothes billowed and her skirt was pulled tight against her legs by the breeze. Thor always loved Frigga's leg hair; blonde like the hair on his head. He watched for the tiny streaks of gold flashing on her thighs and forearms whenever she was in the sun, like a meteor shower over her smooth skin.

Thor turns the alarm off on Loki's phone before it gets a chance to ring. He wakes his brother himself, crouching beside the mattress and gently squeezing Loki's elbow.

“Loki,” Thor whispers.

“Mmm?”

“I picked up a pizza on my way home.”

“Sweet. I've been wanting a hot meal for the last three months but it's been too warm to turn on the oven.”

“I know,” Thor says, smiling at the thick nasal croak that comes from his brother's throat when he first wakes.

Thor digs his fingers into Loki's side and then hops up to set the table before Loki can smack him.

Loki sees his underwear on the floor and swears.

“Sorry if you got an eyeful of pu-”

“If you're apologizing for being naked, I'm gonna throw you out the window,” Thor interrupts, pouring two glasses of ice water and tearing off paper towels to use as napkins.

Loki smiles shyly and heads to the bathroom to wash up.

They eat the whole pizza, since reheating it in the microwave makes the crust chewy and reheating it in the oven defeats the purpose. It's salty and rich and hot and perfect.

“How are we going to go back to eating salads after this?” Loki sighs.

“I know. I can't wait for fall. I love summer, but this is something else.”

“Fucking miserable is what it is.”

Thor nods.

“Maybe if I put a fuckton of chevre in our salads,” Loki muses,

“Mmm,” Thor agrees. “Or mayonnaise.”

“Fat equals flavor,” Loki nods, and leans back in his chair, patting his bare belly and humming in satisfaction.

“Did I do something?” Thor asks, pressing his cold glass to his cheek absentmindedly.

“When?”

“I don't know. Recently maybe. Something to make you... mad... or uncomfortable?”

Thor's eyes are wide and his nostrils are flared. His forehead is a crumpled mess. He looks frightened in a way Loki's never seen before. Loki realizes Thor genuinely fears that the answer will be yes.

“No,” Loki answers, shaking his head. “I'm just... running on fumes. It's been a long twenty-two years.”

Thor nods and wills himself not to look at Loki's tiny twin bed in the corner on the floor.

“I went out with a woman,” Loki says quietly, and Thor's head tips up.

“Did you bring someone with you?”

“No. We were in public. It was Amy. The barista from Saugatuck Coffee Company. I'm about twice her size, Thor, I wasn't worried for my safety.”

“Yeah, but you never know if your friend is gonna bring a friend,” Thor says.

“Didn't think of that,” Loki admits. “And who would I bring besides you? Jesus,” Loki sighs. “Have I been giving you ulcers all these years?”

“Not you. Other people give me a fucking headache on the regular though.”

Loki nods and wonders if their dad would be this protective if he came out to him.

“So how'd it go with Amy?” Thor asks.

“The first date was good,” Loki says, and Thor can already hear the bad news coming - it makes his face go hot and his eyes water. “We talked food and books and fashion. And, God, she's gorgeous.”

Thor nods and Loki continues.

“She asked me out when I came in to get coffee and I figured... gender is fiction... I find her attractive... human is human... why the hell not?”

Thor smiles.

“We went out to lunch a few weeks ago... a month, now, I guess... and then we walked around town, talking and flirting, and ended up getting ice cream to cool off. So, we finished our cones and we were sitting on a bench licking our fingers, and she just slid into my lap and started making out with me. It was fantastic. I was high as a kite after that. Smiled until my face hurt. We got together for another lunch two days later and talked about food again-”

Loki's voice has been fading and straining throughout the conversation and it finally breaks.

“Sorry,” Loki breathes, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. “And she was flirty and affectionate... sat next to me instead of across from me... and I had my arm around her waist and she had her hand on my knee... And it was just so... nice.”

Loki's wide wet eyes meet their mirror in Thor's face and Thor nods in encouragement. Loki takes a steadying breath and clears his throat.

“And I walked her back to work and kissed her goodbye and we met up again the next day. And I figured I had better come out with it before things went any farther, so I said, 'Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner, but I'm biologically female, and I hope this doesn't change anything but I understand it if does.' And she was surprised, but not disgusted. And she asked if you were born female, too, and when I said 'No,' she just kept asking about you. I guess she'd seen you getting coffee with me or something. Wanted to know what you do, what you like...”

“I hope your answer was, 'Tall handsome men.'”

“More or less,” Loki nods, laughing, and then clears his throat. “I might have said, 'Big veiny uncut cocks.' I was feeling kind of spiteful by then.”

Thor barks a laugh and Loki grins.

“And then I left,” Loki sighs. “And ever since then I've just felt so... stupid.”

“Why?” Thor asks, gently.

“For getting my hopes up. Being optimistic. I don't want to lead with, 'Hi, I have a pussy,' because I don't think it's important and I want people to know me, not my body... but now I guess I should lead with it so I'm not wasting my own time. So, yeah... I'm just... out of hope. Out of patience. And I have no idea where I'll ever get more... After that first date I was so excited,” Loki whispers. “Thinking ahead to drinks and dancing and sex and what I'd make her for breakfast.”

Thor's eyes well over and he nods.

“It felt so fucking good to finally be touched,” Loki sobs.

Thor wipes his own tears away with the pads of his thumb and index finger and drops his hand to cover his mouth.

“And now that I know what I'm missing it only hurts more,” Loki breathes. “I let myself think about how incredible it would be to have someone. Let myself believe it was within reach. Got ahead of myself... And now I'm back at zero, but it feels even lower than it used to.”

Loki takes deep measured breaths until he stops shaking and then swears on a long exhalation.

Thor's face had been red but Loki notices that it's gone very pale. Almost green.

“Pizza not agreeing with you?” Loki asks.

“Planet not agreeing with me,” Thor murmurs.

Loki huffs and nods.

“Anyway, thanks for breakfast,” Loki says, rising and putting their plates in the sink before he goes off to get dressed.

Thor nods and sits at the table, staring at the wood grain and the children's names carved into the edges by its previous owners.

Loki kisses the top of Thor's dazed head on his way out the door.

Thor manages to sit still for three more minutes before he rushes into the bathroom to vomit and cry. How his brother isn't doing the same, he can't imagine. He wonders if Loki already did it weeks ago and he just didn't notice.

Loki stops at a grocer for Irish butter on his way home from the bakery on Friday and a man shopping beside him asks if he can take Loki out some time.

“I'm female,” Loki says, not even bothering to look up.

“I know,” the man answers.

“I'm a man,” Loki tells him.

“I know,” he says again, and Loki looks up.

“Ajé Café, noon on Sunday,” Loki says.

“I'll have a table for us. And my name is Trevor.”

“See you Sunday, Trevor,” Loki says.

Loki doesn't feel like giving the man his name - it's rare enough that it's easy to find him with just his first name.

The man is handsome. Well dressed and groomed. A few years older than Loki.

Loki texts Thor to make sure he's free to play secret chaperone on Sunday afternoon.

Loki once asked Thor if it was weird that he was always going out with total strangers - it's something he's always felt embarrassed about, because it reminds him he doesn't really have friends through whom he can meet people the way Thor does. Thor shook his head no and said, “Twins are the only people on the planet who don't start out as strangers.”

On Sunday morning, Thor leaves while Loki is still getting ready.

Loki took a shower at nine so that his hair would have time to air dry and his curls would look good. He filed his nails while he used whitening strips on his teeth. Ironed his shirt. Polished his shoes.

When Loki gets there, Thor is in a comfy chair in the corner with a cup of coffee, reading. He has a clear view of the entrance and every table in the place.

Loki spots Trevor at a table for two by the wall opposite Thor and heads over. Trevor stands and offers his hand, which Loki takes and shakes firmly. Loki has a good handshake. He used to practice with Odin when he was little.

“I ordered for us,” Trevor says. “A Pasquale Prosciutto on Old World and a Supremo on Multigrain, both with fruit salad.”

“Good thing I'm not a vegetarian,” Loki answers, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Thank you for brunch.”

“My pleasure.”

Trevor begins a monologue about his job that Loki only half listens to. He hasn't bothered to ask Loki's name. Loki wonders whether Trevor remembers he doesn't know it.

Trevor's meal goes uneaten as he continues to speak.

Loki all but inhales his sandwich.

He wishes he could see Thor's face, but he can't really look at him from this angle without it being obvious - Trevor has the seat with a clear view to his brother.

Now Trevor is complaining about how having the air conditioning cranked since June is ruining his complexion and his cuticles and making his hair frizzy. Making it impossible to choose one outfit that works for both his commute and his time in the office, so that he is forced to keep spare clothes in his desk drawers.

Loki thinks of Patrick Bateman and feels his face redden as he tamps down laughter.

“You look fantastic,” Trevor says, and continues before Loki can say thank you. “But there's nothing I can do to compete with you - my skin will never be that fine, and never could be with my genes. And you've obviously stayed out of the sun, which is the most important way to avoid skin damage, and 'skin damage' is just another way of saying aging. I've been trying to find a guy like you who's over five foot ten for almost a decade.”

Loki wonders if Trevor sees him as some sort of potential trophy husband. His ideal of male beauty: tall, slim, fine boned, and fair skinned. And legal to wed in all fifty states. Loki pictures himself lying naked on a shelf in some cabin in Pennsylvania alongside antlers and taxidermy-based hunting trophies. He'd spend twenty five years slathering Crème de la Mer all over himself and doing pilates until time took its inevitable toll and Trevor returned him to the grocery store in which they met... or put him on an ice floe.

Loki bites his lip so he doesn't laugh.

Now Trevor is talking about the blond sitting in the corner. Saying Thor is stunningly good-looking, but he'll never hold a candle to Loki. That he hasn't taken care of his skin, which was coarse to begin with because he's a biological male. That he has deep wrinkles from being out in the sun, and there's no undoing those - chemical peels can only do so much. And fillers look unnatural, and Trevor hates things that are unnatural, which is why he likes Loki so much – that he can tell everything about Loki is pristine. That Thor's hands are rough and callused and his muscles are too big. That his long hair is childish and unprofessional, so he couldn't possibly have a good job. Probably construction is Trevor's assessment. Probably reading the novelization of some action movie.

Last time Loki checked, Thor was reading The God of Small Things.

“Eugh,” Trevor shudders. “Who'd want those hands on their skin? You'd be torn apart. No wonder he's alone on a Sunday morning.”

Trevor goes on about how smooth Loki's hands are, but never asks why: olive oil in the summer, cutting raw meat in the winter, and A+D ointment whenever those aren't enough. It's the raw meat that works the best. Loki wonders if Trevor would become a butcher for vanity, and, if so, whether he'd opt to butcher beef or if he'd settle for hacking up anyone who didn't meet his standards of beauty and grooming.

Loki can't shake the American Psycho imagery and wants to see Trevor in a clear raincoat, or wearing a beauty mask, or naked with a chainsaw.

And Loki knows Thor can hear all of this: he can hear Thor's low laughter. Trevor is assuming it's from the book, but Loki knows it's because Thor is laughing at Trevor.

Trevor moves on to critiquing Thor's wardrobe.

Loki slips his phone out of his pocket and covertly texts his brother.

It's almost impressive that he's insulting both of us at once. He hasn't even asked my name, Loki types.

I noticed, Thor responds.

Save me.

I could slide over and say, “I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you,” Thor offers.

Yes! Loki types.

Trevor concludes that Thor is a waste of what could have been perfect beauty and then goes silent and slouches slightly as Thor walks up and looms very large over their little table. Loki leans back in his chair and smiles up at his brother.

“I couldn't help but notice this guy hasn't let you get a word in,” Thor says, tossing his head in Trevor's direction while his whole body is aimed at Loki.

“He still hasn't even asked my name,” Loki answers. “Didn't say so much as, 'Hi. How are you?' when I sat down.”

“And how are you?” Thor rumbles, dropping his voice lower than Loki's ever heard it and making Loki's skin prickle with surprise.

“Getting better by the second.”

“You wanna come back to my place? We could eat too much ice cream and watch a movie.”

“Love to,” Loki purrs, cocking his head and letting the left edge of his mouth lift in a smile.

“I'm Luke, by the way,” Thor says.

“That makes me Leia,” Loki winks, and they both walk out the door grinning.

At home they kick off their clothes and splash cool water on their faces. Loki steals one of Thor's tee shirts and puts on baggy old boxer shorts. He has his period, and the less pressure he puts on his waist, the happier his uterus is. He scoops ice cream while Thor picks a movie. They pile pillows against the wall at the head of Thor's bed and then lean back against them as they perch the laptop across their adjacent thighs. Cary Fukunaga's Jane Eyre lulls them into a warm haze of romantic melancholy while their spoons clink against their bowls.

Loki sags against Thor's side as the movie goes on. When Thor peeks out the corner of his left eye he can see Loki's lids looking heavy. Loki's chest and belly are rising and falling in long, deep waves. It's late by Loki's standards, even for Sunday.

“I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you,” Loki says, softly.

“I was afraid you would, actually,” Thor admits. “I didn't want you to give me away in case he was the type to get insulted by the fact that you didn't trust him.”

“You like spying,” Loki teases, nudging Thor with his shoulder. “Think you're George Smiley, sitting over there in the corner. Or Peter Guillam.”

Thor hums.

“You'd have to be Peter,” Loki decides. “You're too pretty to be George.”

“Not according to your new boyfriend,” Thor teases, and Loki huffs.

“How do people like that exist?” Loki boggles, and Thor shakes his head, baffled.

“The weirdest part is that he can see so much and so little at the same time,” Thor says.

“I know,” Loki groans. “I felt like he was looking at me with X-ray vision, but I've never met a more oblivious human being in my entire life.”

“He doesn't know anything about you,” Thor says.

“He doesn't know anything about you, either,” Loki murmurs. “You have a good job. You're smart. You're beautiful. You're the sweetest man alive. And you're my fucking twin,” Loki giggles, bouncing against his brother.

“I always feel like it's visible from space,” Thor says. “I forget we're not identical.”

Loki hums and Thor cranes his neck to kiss the top of Loki's head, then shuts off the laptop and collects their empty bowls. When Thor comes back from the kitchen he finds that Loki has pushed all the pillows aside and passed out in the middle of the mattress. Thor climbs in and finishes his book to the tune of Loki's snores.

For dinner the next night they have curried chickpea salad rolled up in lettuce. Loki put apples and raisins in it, along with half a cup of mayo. The sweetness and crunch are cheerful to their tongues and teeth, and with all the mayonnaise it's rich enough to compete with the pizza.

“Can you see me?” Loki asks. “Or are you too used to me?”

Loki has always spoken to Thor like this, so Thor doesn't have to ask what that question means.

“I know almost everything about you,” Thor answers. “That makes it hard. But sometimes, when I'm not paying attention – not trying to see you and not looking for you - I think I see you more... objectively, insofar as that's possible.”

Loki nods.

“A couple months ago I was at a record store on my lunch break,” Thor murmurs. “And there was this guy bent over a rack. He had the tiniest waist I've ever seen, legs from here to Neptune, and an ass that made me believe in God. And I thought, Holy shit. I hope he's as hot from the front. And I stood up on my toes to see what he was looking at, and it was The Jesus and Mary Chain and I was like, Fuck yes! Future-boyfriend likes sex. And then you turned to go to the cashier and I thought Yeah, he's as hot from the front. It was the day you'd cut your hair, and I didn't know you'd done it. I still felt like an idiot for not recognizing you... and then I panicked and looked around to see if anyone had caught me checking out my brother's ass.”

Loki is sitting there playing with his fingers. He's smiling brightly, but his eyes are shining and his cheeks are red.

“Sorry,” Thor says. “Didn't meant to freak you out.”

“No,” Loki laughs. “It's not that. It's just... thank you. For telling me.”

  
  


5 Sleeping

 

Loki gets out of the bar at one o'clock the following Sunday morning and takes a deep breath as his week resets. He doesn't have to be back at work until his bakery shift at four am on Tuesday. He has forty-five hours of freedom ahead. It makes him giddy.

Sunday is the only big block of time he and Thor have off together, but Loki's sleep schedule means that he misses most of it. Thor usually waits up for him on Saturday nights and they stay up until three or four, since Thor can sleep late on Sunday to make up for it. Loki wonders what Thor will want to do tonight as he walks home through the heat. Sometimes they go for a run. Sometimes they stay in and play scrabble while they have a couple beers and talk. More often they flop down in Thor's bed and watch a movie on his laptop. Those are Loki's favorite nights. Thor's bed is big and soft and smells like home. If Loki falls asleep, Thor lets him stay there - even if Loki passes out in the center of the bed. Thor just finds a way to curl around him. And if Loki has a backache, Thor will rub his spine and shoulders for hours - Thor doesn't fall asleep, or get tired, or get bored and stop. He just kneads achy muscles while Loki turns into happy jelly and all but melts into the mattress.

The apartment smells slightly sweet when Loki gets in. The perfumes of soap, shampoo, and conditioner still linger in the air. Thor takes his showers at night and Loki gets to enjoy the hour or so of humidity that bathing brings to the refrigerated rooms.

When they have the air conditioner on, they close all the curtains and blinds to keep the cool air in and the sun out. All they see of the world is the warm glow that still filters through the drapes. All they hear is the hum of the machine. White noise. They sleep like the dead.

Normally, Thor is sitting at the table reading, waiting for Loki to come in, but he isn't there. There's no note. Loki wonders if Thor has a date and he feels a stab of jealousy: this is their day. This is what he looks forward to all week long. His hard-earned piece of heaven. Basking in his brother's bright silence and eating up his easy affection.

Loki checks his phone to see if he missed a text, but there's nothing.

He dumps his clothes in his room and notices his laundry basket is empty. When he looks in his closet his shirts and jeans are clean and crisp. There's a stacking washer/dryer downstairs in the garage. Thor must have done the laundry last night. Loki can't remember the last time he did it himself.

He takes a cool shower and sings songs by Austra. Afterward, he dries himself carelessly and lets the air conditioning do the rest, standing in front of it and spinning slowly as he sings M83's Skin of the Night softly to himself.

“Loki?” Thor calls, and Loki shrieks, swears, and doubles over laughing.

This is the second time Thor has caught him singing. The first time, Loki was doing Single Ladies while listening to it on his nano - and dancing along - and he didn't hear Thor come in. Loki was thrashing his hips and tossing his hair. When he went to do a turn, he found Thor standing in the entry with his arms full of groceries, wearing the toothiest grin Loki had ever seen. Loki screamed and ran into his room, shutting the door and collapsing against it, laughing while he pulled his earbuds out of his head.

“Loki,” Thor called. “Your phone is ringing.”

Loki swore and opened the door.

“It's Beyoncé,” Thor teased. “She wants her dance moves back.”

Loki had panted obscenities at his brother while trying not to giggle.

“I need an app that tells me when you're home,” Loki sighs.

“Or you could just look in my room,” Thor offers.

Loki huffs and peeks in Thor's open door.

Thor is in bed. His hair is still damp.

“Feeling okay?” Loki asks.

“Yeah, 'm fine. You?”

Loki shrugs. Thor couldn't help noticing that none of the songs Loki was singing were happy ones.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Loki asks, tying not to sound too hopeful.

“Sure. You pick.”

Loki opts for Some Like it Hot.

“Those costume designers had a fucking field day,” Thor says.

“They got an Oscar for it.”

“They put Marilyn Monroe in clingy see-through clothes - of course they got an Oscar for it.”

They giggle and moan their way through the movie.

Loki's favorite scene is where she leans out of her bunk and says, “Goodnight honey.” He hums at the sight and whispers, “How is she even real?”

“I heard Brown's last line was supposed to be, 'I know,'” Thor murmurs, at the end of the film.

Loki hums, shuts Thor's laptop, and drags himself from the room so he doesn't ruin his routine by falling asleep.

He does a bit of cooking while the world is at its coolest, frying bacon for their breakfast the next day and prepping a beloved dessert that needs to sit in the fridge as the sugar in it dissolves. Then he reads in his bed beneath the air conditioner until Thor gets up at eleven. He stares as his brother lumbers out and slumps over the kitchen table.

Loki climbs to his feet and heads to the stove. He breaks up the bacon and mixes it in with scrambled eggs, which he fries in the bacon grease he saved from three am.

Thor does the dishes while Loki takes a quick shower. He tends to take two a day in the summer; one before his shift at the bar, so he'll look sharp and smell fresh, and one after his shift at the bakery, when he's covered with flour and hot from the ovens.

When Loki comes out to dry himself under the air conditioner, his brother is absent.

“Are you coming down with something?” Loki asks, leaning in Thor's door.

“No,” Thor sighs, lying on his back in bed. “Sorry. Just too fucking tired. Slept almost all day yesterday and it didn't make any difference. I think I'm just perpetually dehydrated. The sun's really taking it out of me this summer. We've got all our stuff set up outside for this job, so I'm basically getting baked all day long. I drink gallons of water, but I sweat most of it out.”

Loki can see the striations in Thor's muscles. All the veins.

“There isn't an ounce of fat left on you either,” Loki murmurs. “I should be making you something more substantial than salad for dinner.”

“Making me dinner isn't your job. And I eat plenty during the day. Sometime I split a rotisserie chicken with Erik. Sometimes I eat the whole thing myself. But when it's really hot like this it kills my appetite.”

“Did you look in the fridge at all today?” Loki asks, and Thor shakes his head no. “I made amrakhand last night.”

“Oh fuck,” Thor moans.

Loki goes out to the kitchen and comes back with a big bowl of the creamy dessert and an enormous glass of ice water.

“Wanna watch another movie?” Loki asks.

“Kind of,” Thor says, and leans over to get his laptop off the floor.

He opens it and refreshes the screen before turning it toward Loki.

Loki sees a sloppy grey grid with a blob of green, yellow, and red drifting across it; radar, showing a storm system barreling down on the whole region.

“Holy shit,” Loki says. “It's huge.”

“It should be here by six and it'll go all night. Supposed to get down to seventy. Maybe even the high sixties.”

“How long will that last?”

“Back up to eighty-seven by Tuesday. Ninety-three Wednesday.”

“Motherfuck,” Loki gripes.

“I wondered if you'd be willing to wake up early and watch it roll in,” Thor says.

“Yeah,” Loki says, instantly, and leans over to steal a heaping spoonful of Thor's amrakhand.

They haven't done this since they were thirteen. Loki is touched that Thor thought of it. Thor's window faces west, so they'll have a perfect view as the thunderheads approach.

They sit naked in Thor's bed, sharing cold water and sweet creamy mango.

“You look thin, too,” Thor murmurs.

“I know,” Loki sighs, sinking back against the pillows piled up against the wall. “I barely have time to eat and I'm always on my feet and running around. When I get home I'm usually too tired to cook. I probably should have made this with cream instead of strained yogurt,” Loki says, stealing another spoonful of Thor's dessert.

When they're finished, Thor puts the empty cup and bowl on the floor with his computer and sinks back down in bed. He pats the space beside him and Loki slides under the sheet.

“I'll wake you up when it gets here,” Thor says.

“What are you going to do all afternoon?” Loki asks.

“I'm gonna sleep, too, if I can. If I can't, I'll read.”

Loki nods and curls up with his nose against Thor's shoulder. Thor basks in soft puffs of breath against his skin and the scent of his brother's hair, still damp and sweet with shampoo.

He's been worried about Loki for months. Years, really. He wants to have a chat with his brother about how vacations are not optional, and Loki needs to take one. Tension and sadness are coming off of Loki in waves. Never in public - when they go out to grab dinner or coffee, Loki projects confidence and charm - but when they're home and it's just the two of them, Loki drops the mask. After bad days – usually Saturdays, when Loki has gone the longest without rest and has had to deal with the highest volume of social interaction – his face often looks an inch from tears and all the strength has gone out of his shoulders.

Loki got this way in middle school, too. Seventh grade. He looked miserable for a month straight and finally broke down right before Christmas break. Thor found him on his own bedroom floor, crumpled in the empty spot where Loki's bed used to be, crying.

“What happened?” Thor asked.

“Everyone hates me.”

“I love you,” Thor breathed.

“Why is this happening to me,” Loki choked. “What am I?”

“You're my brother,” Thor said, dropping to his knees and scooping Loki up in his arms.

“I'm not your brother,” Loki sobbed. “I never was. They won't let me. Even my own body...”

Loki shook his head against Thor's shoulder and soaked through Thor's tee shirt with tears.

“You're my brother,” Thor chanted, over and over against Loki's neck, gently rocking the quaking body.

Thor doesn't want it to get that bad again.

Loki's weeping wounds Thor as deeply as it ever did. Reminding him that he is too weak to make the world a perfect place for his sibling. That they are most often at the mercy of strangers, many of whom are far from merciful. That all he can control is how he treats his twin.

Their lives are likely a quarter over, and Loki has spent at least half his time fending off heartache and fighting to be seen as himself. Sinking into a solitude that seems to suffocate him.

Thor suspects his brother has forgotten the truth he knew so effortlessly as a child. He makes a mental note to remind him.

Loki wakes to the sound of his own name and a warm hand squeezing his shoulder. He hears the blinds being drawn aside and the window sliding open. It's as dark as dusk outside. The clouds are charcoal and payne's grey. Loki listens, but can't hear any thunder yet.

It's so different with the air conditioning off and the apartment opened up. The sound of toads trilling floods the room. Crickets chime in, chirping here and there. Breeze rustles leaves and branches and the dull roar of tires on concrete drifts in as an occasional car crawls by.

And the scents are just as potent. Cut grass, clover, roses, maple leaves, tar on rooftops, and the promise of rain.

When Loki sits up he sees that Thor has put their old plastic shower curtain on the floor under the window to catch any water that comes in.

“Want something to drink?” Thor asks.

“I'll get it,” Loki murmurs. “I'm gonna go pee.”

“Don't flush. I'll use it when you're done.”

“'Kay.”

When Thor comes out of the bathroom he finds Loki in the kitchen, slicing up apples and putting them on a plate around a pile of peanut butter and honey. Thor grabs the ice water Loki poured and they bring their favorite childhood snack into Thor's room.

The wind is starting to pick up and the temperature is slowly dropping. They sit cross-legged on the end of the bed with the plate of apples between them, crunching fruit and licking honey from their lips. At the first tiny rumble of thunder, they lock eyes and grin.

They couldn't see the lightning that caused the sound, so it must still be miles away.

“I was so glad when we found a second story apartment in a neighborhood with old trees,” Thor says. “Feels like we're in our tree house.”

“Mmhmm,” Loki agrees. “And our old room. I've always liked waking up with birds' nests and branches just outside the window. Like I'm still in a dream.”

They finish their food and gulp down their water, then shift so that they're on their bellies with their arms folded along the edge of the bed, pillowing their chins.

The sky brightens faintly and the brothers make tiny noises of recognition, then count out Mississippis and divide by five.

“Still over three miles away,” Thor says.

Loki hums and closes his eyes. He's smiling.

Thor stares at his twin's profile. He loves Loki's nose. Strong and sharp. His own nose is bumpy, as though it's been broken (it hasn't), and vaguely angry-looking at the nostrils. Thor thinks Loki got all the looks. His face is full of unexpected twists, turns, and flourishes. And his eyes are enormous. Thor feels like a mole next to him.

Thor decides Trevor wasn't a complete idiot: Loki is the beauty.

Loki opens his eyes when he hears Thor hum. There was another flash of lightning. They see a third flash before the thunder from the second has reached their ears.

“Here it comes,” Thor says, as billowing black clouds with bellies full of rain gallop across the sky and blot out all light but the bolts of it they bring themselves.

It's quiet for almost two minutes, and when the lightning resumes, there is no longer a gap before the thunder. The storm snuck up on them. They jump at the deafening crash and then laugh at themselves.

They ooh and aah as though they're watching fireworks for over thirty minutes.

When the rain starts, Thor climbs out of bed and stands next to the window. The wind blows the drops through the screen and they shatter and spray over his skin.

Loki stares at broad shoulders so unlike his own as they're lit by flashes of lightning, then joins Thor at the window and hums at the chill of the mist.

It starts to pour and still they stand there, soaking up the rain and staring at the lightning, hearing the sky roar and crack.

When the thunder passes, it leaves a steady downpour in its wake.

“I feel like we should be holding lit Zippos in the air,” Loki says.

Thor laughs softly and ruffles Loki's hair, then turns and climbs back into bed.

Loki stays at the window, breathing in the scent of wet rooftops, damp earth, and galvanized steel as he bathes in blessedly cool air.

When Loki turns, he can just make out the shape of his brother's body on the bed. He hears Thor pat the pillow next to his own.

Loki slides in with a sigh and Thor tosses the sheet over him.

“I hope we have a wet autumn,” Loki says, snuggling into the bed.

“Mmm,” Thor agrees, arranging pillows. “A cool gloomy October would be amazing.”

“Like a Smiths song, all day, every day,” Loki smiles.

“You should take a week or two off that month,” Thor says.

“What for?”

“Vacation.”

“What would I do?”

“Whatever you want,” Thor laughs. “That's how vacation works. You could go somewhere you've been wanting to go. Or try something you haven't had time to do. Eat like it's your job. Read. Get caught up on sleep.”

Loki shakes his head.

“Why not?” Thor whispers.

“The busier I am, the less it bothers me,” Loki shrugs.

“The less what bothers you?”

“Being alone,” Loki says quietly, after a beat.

“You've never been alone,” Thor breathes, taking the pale hand that's resting on the bed before him.

“But I should be,” Loki sighs. “I should be looking for a job in New York and letting you get on with your life. It's bad enough that I keep you cooped up in here with me for half of every weekend. I can't have you all to myself forever.”

“Why not?” Thor whispers.

Loki's lips tighten, holding back his words, while his fear escapes as a quick breath and a squeeze of Thor's hand.

“There are limits,” Loki breathes, but it sounds like a question.

Thor shakes his head no and scoots closer to pull Loki into a hug.

“I look forward to dinner with you all day,” Thor says, rubbing Loki's back. “Look forward to Sundays all week. I've met thousands of people over the last four years and not one of them has made me half as happy as you do.”

“What about Steve? I thought you loved him.”

“I did.” Thor says, softly, with a tiny shrug of his right shoulder. “I do. He's lovely. He asked me to move to New York with him right before he left. Said I could stay with him while I looked for a new foreman.”

Loki lies there in silence, stunned and blinking, for almost a minute.

“Why didn't you?” Loki whispers.

Thor keeps rubbing Loki's shoulders in elaborate unconscious patterns.

“I spent every spare minute of those two weeks with him,” Thor says. “And every day I felt a little lower. I thought it was just because I knew he was leaving and that was coloring everything that happened, and I'm sure that was part of it... But when I finally came back home and saw you...” Thor shakes his head. “You came out of your room with pillow creases on your face and drool on your cheek, wearing a sweaty grey tee shirt and boxer shorts with old blood stains on them... and you smiled at me so wide...” Thor's voice breaks and he laughs. “And I felt better than I had at any point those past two weeks... smiled right back. And it was just... it was over before it began - I can't love anyone more than I love you. And I know I was weird for a few weeks after that, and I'm sorry. It took me a minute to get my head around it. And to get used to the helplessness of it.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asks.

“I mean it's out of my hands,” Thor shrugs. “I can't change this. And I don't want to. But I can't ask you to give up the rest of the world. I don't want to rob you of everyone else out there.”

It's so quiet they can hear each other blinking. Thor's hand is still swirling over Loki's shoulder blades.

Loki takes a careful breath and softly laughs.

“We're the same,” Loki says, and feels Thor's ribs spread as he inhales.

Loki puts his arm around Thor's waist and nudges Thor's right leg forward with his heel at the back of Thor's knee and then traps Thor's thigh between his own. They settle in and sleep as they did when they were children. The air is damp and chilly now, and the warmth of skin is welcome. They listen to the breath breezing through each other's noses until they fall asleep.

Loki wakes two hours later and disentangles himself.

“Don't flush,” Thor mumbles, and Loki laughs quietly and says okay.

Loki is brushing his teeth with the bathroom door open when Thor ambles in and sits down to pee. He's too tall to stand up. Frigga scolded him when he was sixteen. Told him if he wanted to keep standing up to piss then he had to start cleaning the bathroom every day because it was splashing everywhere after falling from such a great height. Thor opted to sit.

When Thor comes out, Loki is waiting half-way between his own mattress and Thor's door.

“Come back to bed,” Thor murmurs, tossing his head in the direction of his room.

Loki's forehead goes smooth as he smiles and follows at Thor's elbow.

They settle in and pull up the sheet.

“Should we use the quilt while we have the chance?” Thor says.

“Mmm. I always feel more relaxed when I have one.”

Thor gropes through the heap of blankets at the foot of the bed until he finds the edge and then pulls up the comforter, tucking it around them.

They lie on their backs and listen to the rain.

Thor hears hair whispering on the pillow to his left and sees Loki's head turn out of the corner of his eye. Thor rolls onto his side to face his brother and Loki follows suit, then shuffles forward and huddles up against Thor's chest, feeling his own breath blow back against his throat after it bounces off of Thor's skin. Thor strokes Loki's spine with long slow sweeps of his hand and slides his thigh between Loki's legs again. He feels Loki's muscles flex around him in mute greeting.

They cautiously wrap their arms around each other, Thor with his left under Loki's neck and Loki with his left around Thor's ribs. Loki's right arm is folded up between them with his hand curled against Thor's breast.

Loki is wide awake, but he isn't certain about Thor. The motion of Thor's hand is slowing and his palm has paused over the small of Loki's back. But the rest of Thor's muscles are still taut, not slack with sleep, and his breathing is swift.

Thor presses in more firmly as his hand flows up Loki's spine and Loki's breath is pushed out with a tiny moan. Thor keeps rubbing, kneading Loki's neck and shoulders and then threading his fingers up through Loki's hair. Loki's neck goes limp and his head follows the motions of Thor's hand, lolling on the pillow.

Thor's touch is firmer at the nape and the base of the skull where the hair is thicker, then softer and slower as he nears the crown and temples. Never pulling or jarring, but soothing and perfect.

Loki wants to purr.

He's panting. He supposes that's close enough in spirit.

“You should be a masseuse,” Loki breathes.

“You should get a massage,” Thor murmurs.

Loki hums.

Thor traces the edge of Loki's left ear and follows it down to his jaw, running the side of his finger back and forth under Loki's chin and then up over the lips, along the nose, across the left eyebrow, around the temple, back through Loki's hair and out onto his spine. Thor presses in hard again and Loki can feel each vertebra dragging against Thor's palm on its way down. When Thor's hand reaches the base of Loki's back, Loki hums and his arm tightens around Thor's ribs. Thor presses their foreheads together and rubs firm circles all the way up Loki's back and onto his right shoulder. He cups the curve of the deltoid and follows it to Loki's triceps. Squeezes a bony elbow fondly and then reverses his course. When Thor gets to Loki's tailbone, he swerves off to the joint of Loki's thigh and kneads it, fingers sinking into soft flesh.

Loki whines softly and curls his pelvis forward.

Thor squeezes the dip of Loki's waist and then rubs a circle around the peak of Loki's hipbone with the rough pad of his thumb.

Loki wants that thumb to move six inches southwest to swirl around his clitoris. The thought makes him gasp and grind against Thor's thigh.

Thor squeezes Loki's waist again and then slides his hand up Loki's side.

Loki lifts his left arm so that Thor's path will be unimpeded and his ribs will be stretched wide.

Thor's thumb grazes the edge of Loki's breast as he makes his way north, and Loki cries out.

Thor hums and then moans as his palm passes over the soft hair in Loki's armpit and then meets the softer skin on the underside of Loki's arm. He follows the thin limb until their fingers are twined together above their heads and then traces the bridge of Loki's nose with the tip of his own. He sets the sides of their faces together and nuzzles the bend of Loki's jaw. Cranes his neck and kisses Loki softly on the cheek with a perfectly aligned press of lips. If Thor was wearing lipstick there would be a cartoonish imprint of the act, the shape too sharp for a thing so softly given.

Loki turns his head slowly and the edges of their jaws drag against each other until the corners of their mouths are touching. Thor's stubble is rough on Loki's skin and his smooth cheek burns from the brush of blond whiskers.

Loki parts his lips slightly and slides them across his brother's, loving the tug and stutter of the damp skin.

He's rewarded with a hum that's half groan and a deep breath that presses their breasts together.

He kisses the corner of Thor's mouth and Thor leads their arms back down. Loki wraps his arms around Thor's ribs again. Thor aligns his forearm with Loki's spine, curving his broad shoulder around Loki's narrow one and pressing Loki in tight as he nibbles Loki's lower lip.

Loki remembers he is free to explore, too. He lets his fingers flow over the muscles in Thor's back, thinking of his own breasts as he cups all the curves.

He kneads the bulges of Thor's upper arm and the swell of his right pectoral – and here Thor lets out a breathy sound that Loki can only classify as a whimper. Loki brushes his thumb across Thor's nipple and it pulls a full-throated groan from Thor's throat. Loki's pussy gives a little pulse at the sound and wetness trickles out of him. He can smell his own sex - sharp, ripe, and animalic in the humid air. His nose is right next to Thor's, so he knows Thor can smell it, too – this wild and involuntary advertisement of arousal, broadcasting his want and readiness to his twin.

When Loki rubs the base of his brother's back, Thor's hips thrust and he sobs. Loki lets his hand keep falling until it's cupping the warm curve of Thor's right buttock. He can feel all the tiny gold hair on it standing up against his palm. He gives Thor's butt an affectionate squeeze and Thor buries his face in Loki's neck, breathing fast. Thor shakes when Loki's long fingers graze the top of the cleft of his ass.

Loki is stunned by the sense of power coursing through him. By the ease with which he has elicited cries and shudders from the strongest man he knows.

Loki wants more, but Thor is being maddening. Keeping his hands to neutral places. Keeping his cock to himself.

Loki pulls Thor tight against him to feel his breasts flatten against Thor's pecs. Grinds his cunt on Thor's thigh and groans against Thor's throat as the slick folds between his legs spread and slide across Thor's skin.

He sucks the tender flesh of Thor's neck into his mouth hungrily.

Runs his fingers down Thor's front and feels Thor's breath come as fast as heartbeats. Feels Thor's body bend forward, muscles flexing.

When Loki feels coarse hair beneath his fingertips, his hand stills.

He's never touched a penis. He doesn't actually know where Thor's is right now. He suspects if he drops his fingers another two inches he'll find out. But he wants to ask first. When they're both calm.

It's a pleasure to ask Thor about sex – he always gives frank, unashamed, and unembellished answers.

And Loki wants the lights on. He wants lessons. Demonstrations. Explanations.

He runs his hand back up and around Thor's ribs and holds his brother close.

Thor kisses Loki everywhere his long neck will let him reach. Loki seems to like it quite a bit when Thor nips the spot below his ear – his breath catches and his hips thrust – so Thor spends a long time there, nibbling and nuzzling, kissing and humming.

They keep their tongues behind their teeth, trading tender and careful kisses. The wetness of their parted lips is already more thrill than their thrumming blood can bear.

They're still softly running their hands over each other and pecking each other's cheeks when Thor's alarm goes off. They swear and sag in disappointment. They thought they had hours left. The clouds kept the sky dark and hid the dawn.

“You can sleep here if you like,” Thor says, kissing the corner of Loki's mouth and squeezing his hip before climbing out of bed.

Loki can just make out the silhouette of Thor's erection, tall and bobbing in front of him as he walks across the room.

Loki lingers in Thor's bed, though he'd like nothing more than to slip into the shower beside his brother. But he'd make Thor late for work. And they'd likely lose control of themselves and do something deliciously stupid and dangerous. Loki doesn't want to risk either of them regretting this.

He's been on the pill since he was seventeen. Frigga took him to the gynecologist so he could get a prescription when his cramps started getting bad and his flow was proving heavy.

The poke in the cervix is well worth it for the pill. And it eases Loki's mind to know that his innards are healthy. He loves knowing exactly when his period will come. Loves that there's far less blood than there would otherwise be. Cramps last minutes, rather than hours. PMS makes him impatient, but no longer depressed, which, though imperfect, is nevertheless an improvement. Still, the pill is not infallible, and Loki's greatest fear is getting pregnant.

Thor comes back from the shower and jumps onto the bed, tossing his hair and splattering Loki like a wet dog while Loki tries to pull the sheet up to protect himself and makes halfhearted noises of displeasure.

Thor buries Loki in pillows and unearths his brother a few minutes later once he's dressed for work. Loki stares, unsure what to say.

Thor leans in and peppers him with kisses before he digs his fingers into Loki's ribs and dashes out the door calling, “Bye! Love you!”

Loki rolls over and buries his face in Thor's pillow. He breathes in the scents of Thor's hair, skin, soap, and saliva until his nose grows accustomed to them and he can't detect them any more.

He sighs and drags himself from the room.

His thighs feel cold where they're chilled by the fluid that's seeped out of him. He's completely drenched between the legs. Thick strings of sticky liquid hang from his skin. He didn't know his body could get this wet.

His labia and clitoris are tender and swollen. When he slides a finger inside himself he finds his vagina in the same state – soaked and throbbing. He digs his vibrator out of his bedside drawer and goes back out to flop down in his own bed and put an end to the tension in his body.

He comes faster than he ever has before, bending and gasping like a fish, then goes for three more.

He takes in his reflection in the bathroom mirror while he washes his vibe. He is glassy-eyed and grinning helplessly. Flushed. He looks like lust.

After a cool shower, he sits down to a breakfast of amrakhand and realizes Thor forgot to eat before he left. He hopes his brother remembered to pick something up on his way to work. He doesn't need to get any thinner.

Loki turns on his laptop to answer questions on his blog. He lets his followers send him elaborate cooking problems and then trouble-shoots for them. He often asks them to post a picture so that he can survey the damage. He has found that the cooking-community is by far the friendliest place on the internet. Trolls are few and far between. Everyone has a sense of humor about their fuck-ups, a love of learning, a love of pleasure, and a sense of generosity and shared joy. Recipes are passed around without the expectation of reciprocation. Everyone is Santa Claus. Loki loves it.

At ten thirty, the phone rings and Loki groans, assuming someone wants him to pick up their shift at the bar on his day off.

“Hello?” Loki sighs, unable to conceal his disappointment.

“Loki Borrson?”

A man's voice with an accent. Loki doesn't recognize it.

“Speaking,” Loki answers.

“This is Erik Selvig. I'm Thor's foreman. There's been an accident.”

  
  
  


6 Clinging

 

Loki gets the address of the job site, throws on clothes, and bolts out the door, sprinting for the main intersection and hailing a cab. He always has a lot of cash from his tips at the bar, but he's grateful that the cabs in the city now take credit cards, because this is farther than he normally goes. He burns through three cabbies asking if they'll take him one-way to Evanston before the fourth finally says yes.

Sitting in the car is torture. Loki knows they're moving faster than he ever could on foot, but there's so much stopping at lights and halting for pedestrians it feels like they're going nowhere.

He's trying not to cry.

Everything fell apart so fast.

He wasn't even out of the afterglow when the phone rang.

Thor got distracted and it's all Loki's fault. Loki knows it. And Thor has been exhausted for weeks. Loki knows that, too. The breakfast Thor forgot to eat was likely the first in a long line of oversights leading up to Thor fucking up at work somehow.

Loki decides he shouldn't even be surprised.

Incest, Loki realizes, and wonders why the word didn't dawn on him sooner. Why the thought is still so abstract and distant. Of course Thor was agitated.

Greed is what really gnaws at Loki. His own. He wants Thor to give him everything. Be his everything. Share everything.

But no one can give that much.

It's excessive.

And Loki kept Thor up all night with this madness.

Erik said concussion was very likely.

Loki wonders if his brother has forgotten last night. He hopes and fears so in equal measure. It would give Thor an out. A clear path to a safe, normal, healthy, happy future. With Steve, maybe, or someone like him. Someone to bring home for Christmas and kiss without question. Someone who makes people stare in awe and envy, not confusion and disgust.

“You okay, kid?” The cabbie asks, and Loki realizes he has fucked up further and started crying.

“My brother got in an accident,” Loki says, wetly. “Probably has a concussion.”

“Oh, I got one of those when I fell off the monkey bars in fourth grade,” the man nods. “It sounds worse than it is, and the pain is gone by the time you know what's what. I don't remember hitting the ground, or how I got home, but it didn't hurt and I got three days off. Pretty good deal.”

Loki smiles and nods gratefully and tips the man generously when he leaves the car.

The house they're building is well under way. Loki can smell the wood - the scent that comes home on Thor's clothes every day.

A tall middle-aged man with wild hair waves Loki over to where he's standing under a tree. Thor is sitting on the ground, leaning back against the trunk.

“Loki Borrson,” Loki says, offering his hand, and the palm that answers his own is cool and dry despite the weather and the circumstances. Loki finds that reassuring.

“Erik Selvig. Pleased to meet you. Hear you're a helluva cook.”

“Thanks,” Loki says, smiling down at his brother, who is smiling back up at him. “Did you call an ambulance?” Loki asks. “Do I need to take him to the ER?”

“I don't think you have to worry. He didn't lose consciousness. He has a goose egg on the back of his head, but he hasn't stumbled or passed out. Thor,” Erik says, turning and crouching to address him and taking a look at Thor's eyes to make sure they're staying focused, “I want you home for at least a week. Longer if you need it, all right?”

Thor nods and Erik tells them both to go get some rest.

Loki pulls his cell phone from his pocket before he sits down beside his brother. He calls their landlord to ask about concussions.

Dr. Banner says to watch out for vomiting, unequal pupils, confusion, odd behavior, severe headache, weakness in the extremities, irritability, extreme drowsiness, and restlessness, and to take Thor to the ER if he notices any of those symptoms. In the absence of those issues, Loki can just keep an eye on Thor, stick to acetaminophen for pain management, refrain from making Thor think too much, and not expect him to remember much of anything that happens today or tomorrow.

“Thank you,” Loki breathes. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Calm down, kiddo, these things happen all the time. If you want, I can stop in and take a peek at him when I get home tonight.”

“I'd really appreciate that,” Loki says immediately. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing. He's going to want to sleep, because his brain needs a rest, and that's fine. It's only a problem if he's losing consciousness unwillingly. You can check up on him as often as you like. More for your peace of mind than his health, but it won't hurt him. I'll call before I come over so I don't startle him by pounding on the door, okay?”

“Perfect. Thanks again.”

Loki rakes his hand through his hair and lets out a slow breath.

“Dr. Banner's going to check you out later. Let's see your head,” Loki says, and Thor turns his face away to offer his scalp, feeling carefully through his hair and lifting a curtain of blond.

Loki sees a little dried blood and a large welt.

He wonders if Thor's coworkers were frightened of Thor's blood. The possibility pisses him off.

“Headache?” Loki asks.

“No,” Thor says. “The bump hurts if I press it, though.”

“Well don't press it,” Loki teases, and Thor elbows him.

Loki rises and helps Thor to his feet, holding his brother's elbow and walking him to the car. Thor's gait is fine and his balance seems unaffected.

“Keys,” Loki says, holding his hand out expectantly.

Thor digs them out of his pocket and hands them over before climbing into the passenger seat with a relieved sigh.

Loki escorts Thor up the stairs when they get home, draping Thor's arm around his shoulders and gripping him by the belt.

“I'm fine,” Thor says, smiling a bit shyly.

“Better safe than sorry,” Loki answers.

He parks Thor at the kitchen table and puts a tall glass of water and another bowl of amrakhand in front of him so that Thor can finally have breakfast. He fries eggs and slices a cantaloupe in half and guts it before cutting it into thin slices for their lunch.

Afterward, he props Thor up in bed and puts a movie on Thor's laptop – The Princess Bride – because they know every word and there will be no danger of Thor having to think too hard to follow the plot.

“I'm gonna start calling you 'Farm-boy' and making unreasonable demands,” Thor threatens.

“I'm gonna go get captured by pirates.”

Loki moves his mattress back onto his bed frame and cleans the apartment so Dr. Banner won't think they're slobs.

He calls Natasha to give her his Tuesday night shift at the bar. She's the only coworker who is consistently willing to pick up extra shifts. She works hard, flirts brilliantly, makes a killing in tips, and never leaves a mess. Loki loves working with her – they're always on weekends together. She taught him everything he knows about bartending, and she never looks at him like he's a freak or says anything offensive. She tells him that he's handsome when he comes in looking especially sharp, but she's discreet about it, always waiting until they're out of earshot of anyone who might be an idiot about it.

She knew exactly who he was the second she saw him.

They point out the customers who are looking at them with hungry eyes and make sure that they're serving the people most likely to give them the best tips. Loki taught her how to make his crazy jello shots, and though she has no culinary training, she picked it up after her first lesson.

She can tell there's something wrong before Loki opens his mouth, because Loki never calls her, and she never calls him. They never miss their shifts, and Loki doesn't initiate contact with coworkers on his days off. They only text each other at work to warn each other about unpleasant regulars or people who've been cut off for the evening.

“What's wrong?” she asks.

“My brother had an accident at work. I was wondering if you could cover me tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” Loki sighs.

“Is he okay?”

“He seems fine,” Loki says. He can hear Thor quoting all the dialogue and doing all the different voices in the next room. “I just don't feel great about leaving him alone with a concussion, and there's no one I can give my bakery shifts to on such short notice, so I'll be gone from four to noon. Might take a cab home on my break and check in on him.”

“You want me to watch him for you? I'm off tonight.”

“I don't want to fuck up your sleep schedule. Our landlord's a doctor and he's gonna take a look at him.”

“It's no big deal. I can sleep at your place and wake up every hour or two to check on him.”

“That would be... great, actually, if you really don't mind. I leave at three thirty in the morning. You're welcome to come before then and start sleeping if you like.”

“What's your address?”

Natasha tells him she'll come at ten. They're used to seeing each other then. Loki changes his sheets for her, cleans the bathroom, closes all the windows, and cranks the AC. It's already creeping up toward eighty outside, and Loki wants to bake cookies for Thor and Nat to snack on, so he doesn't want it to get any hotter in the apartment.

He peeks in on Thor before he begins his baking.

“Need anything?”

“Come be lazy with me,” Thor says. “You're supposed to be sleeping right now.”

“I know. I'm baking cookies for you and your baby-sitter. Nat's coming to watch you for me while I'm at the bakery tonight. You can sleep, but she'll wake you up to check on you every couple hours, 'kay?”

“'Kay,” Thor shrugs. “Hurry up.”

While the cookies bake, Loki makes sandwiches for everyone and puts them in the fridge, leaving a big sign on the dry erase board announcing their existence. He's paranoid about Thor coming out and turning on the stove, so when he's done with the oven, he leaves a sign on it telling Thor not to use it and reminding him he has a concussion. He leaves more notes that bear some variation on the theme, “Text your brother and tell him how you're doing,” all over the apartment.

The place smells delicious as the cookies cool. Calming. Like their parents' house when they were in high school.

Loki splashes his face with cold water and brings in fruit for Thor to eat before he climbs into Thor's bed to sleep. Thor continues his comedy marathon with Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.

Loki's phone rings at five-thirty and he dashes out to let Bruce in, wiping sleep from his eyes and trying to tug the wrinkles out of his shirt.

“Something smells good,” Bruce notes. He has a first aid kit in his hand.

“Cookies,” Loki says. “Help yourself.”

“I'll grab one on my way out. Don't want to get crumbs all over the patient.”

“You'd just be beating him to the punch,” Loki sighs. “It's kind of inevitable.”

Bruce smiles and peeks in at Thor. Loki sees the doctors eyebrows lift minutely.

Thor is naked and giggling. Loki has long taken his brother's shape for granted, and it's been years since he really noticed Thor's nudity. He forgets that most people don't see bodies like his brother's outside the realms of pornography and Photoshop.

“Carpentry seems to be treating you well,” Dr. Banner notes. “Apart from the concussions.”

Thor smiles and pauses his movie before sitting up.

“Squeeze my hands,” Bruce says, and Thor does. “Good. Now pinch the tips of my thumbs between all your fingertips... Good. Wiggle your toes... That's fine. Follow my finger with just your eyes. Any nausea?”

“No.”

“Remember getting hit?”

“Nope.”

“Remember getting home?”

“Not all of it,” Thor admits. “I remember seeing some new streets. And seeing Loki driving. He didn't take the same route I take, so I didn't recognize it.”

Bruce nods. Loki saw the doctor's lips part briefly at the use of he, but they shut again just as swiftly. Loki's pulse jumps. Thor has never slipped up before. And now Loki is worried that they're going to have to look for a new place to live.

“Headache?” Bruce asks.

“The back is throbbing a little now, but not the inside.”

“Let's have a look.”

Bruce puts on gloves and asks Thor to turn around.

“Yep, that's a good one,” Bruce marvels, brushing Thor's hair aside to reveal the bloody bump. “Try to remember that it's there and to leave it alone. It doesn't need any stitches, but dragging a comb through it would be a bummer.”

“I don't have to work for a week, so I won't be touching a comb,” Thor says, and Bruce laughs.

“Well, remember not to scratch it when it gets itchy.”

“I'll try,” Thor says.

“Tell Loki if you start to feel weird. If you feel like you're going to pass out even when you're not trying to sleep. If you're confused. If you get dizzy. If you don't feel quite like yourself. If you vomit. Otherwise, just keep doing what you're doing. Rest and remember to eat and drink. Easy enough?”

Thor nods and says thanks.

Bruce follows Loki out to the kitchen.

“Thor isn't-” Loki starts.

“I'm sorry I've been using the wrong pronouns all these years,” Bruce says, quietly.

“Oh. Thank you. No, it's fine. I tend not to correct people because I prefer my privacy. I just didn't want you to think Thor couldn't remember whether he had a brother or a sister.”

“That would be worrisome,” Bruce agrees, huffing a quiet laugh.

“Cookies?” Loki asks.

“Don't mind if I do.”

“Thank you for checking him out. It's a big relief.”

“No trouble. Call me if you have any questions.”

“Thanks.”

“Sleep,” Thor says, patting the bed beside him when Loki appears in the doorway.

“Hungry?” Loki asks, but Thor shakes his head no.

“Let me put pajamas on,” Loki says, and Thor frowns.

Loki returns in boxers and a tee with a glass of water for Thor to drink.

He sets his alarm for nine-thirty so he has time to make himself decent before Natasha shows up. He sets a timer for two hours to wake him up so he can check on his brother.

Thor is asleep when Loki's timer goes off. He looks rumpled but relaxed. Loki sighs. He doesn't really want to wake Thor, but missing a symptom of serious injury is even less appealing.

“Thor,” Loki says, gently.

“Mmm?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Thor yawns, stretching and arching his back before collapsing with a grunt.

“Want some dinner?”

“Okay.”

They have avocado tacos with a cilantro lime sauce and toasted pistachios, then take another nap until Loki has to get up and get dressed for Natasha.

He pulls his stray hairs off of Thor's pillows and sheets.

Thor puts on Dumb and Dumber.

Nat hits the cookies the second she's in the door and then goes in to meet Thor, who is still lying in bed naked and laughing hysterically.

She doesn't bat an eye.

“You look like you're feeling good,” she notes.

“Hi,” Thor says, rising to shake her hand. “I'm Thor.”

“Nat. Nice to meet you. Jesus. And I thought Loki was tall. Is there something in the water back home?”

“We're Norwegian,” Thor says, smiling brightly.

“That's what he said, too,” Nat answers.

“Wanna watch a movie with us?” Thor asks.

“Sure,” she shrugs, and they pile into bed.

Thor starts Dumb and Dumber over again.

Loki falls asleep almost instantly.

Natasha watches Thor watching his brother.

“He's in worse shape than you are,” she notes.

“Yeah,” Thor says, softly. “But I'd be just as bad if he'd been the one to get hurt.”

“Who's older?”

“He was born six minutes after I was. And I'll never let him forget it,” Thor smiles.

“How much of today can you remember?”

“I'm not sure,” Thor says. “I've been watching movies I've seen before, so I can't tell if I'm remembering the whole thing because I just saw it, or because I've already seen it a dozen times. I can't remember going to the bathroom, so I should probably get on that, just in case.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she agrees, and Thor wanders off to use the toilet.

Loki wakes when Thor climbs back in bed.

“All right?”

“Yep,” Thor says. “Go back to sleep. You've had a shitty day.”

“You're the one with the head injury.”

“You're the one worried I've got brain damage.”

“Well, it's just that it would be so hard for me to tell,” Loki teases, and Thor narrows his eyes and leans over to bite Loki's bicep.

Loki lies there with his eyes closed and wonders if Nat thinks they're weird.

They are weird - everyone is - but that's not quite what he means. He wonders if they're the normal sort of weird. Wonders what other twins do behind closed doors. If they all treat each other as communal property the way he and Thor do, or if they have more distinct boundaries. He wonders how siblings behave in general. He has nothing to compare himself to beyond movies. But he knows that what he and Thor did last night was far beyond the norm. He wonders how much Natasha can see. How obvious they are. The word us sticks in his mind. And Thor's unchallenged assumption that they'd be watching the movie together in his bed regardless of whether she joined them. But Nat didn't blink. Loki lets that lull him to sleep. It's not like there's a better place in their apartment to watch TV.

When the movie is over, Natasha says goodnight to Thor and she and Loki climb out of bed.

Loki shows her to his room.

“Help yourself to anything you like. If you can't find something just ask Thor. He's had plenty of rest.”

“Sounds good. I'm gonna read for a bit and then go to sleep. I've got my alarm set for six, eight, and ten and I'll text you his status.”

“That's perfect,” Loki sighs. “Thank you. Sorry I don't even have a sofa for you to sit on. And sorry you're stepping straight into an eyeful of...us,” Loki groans, flicking his fingers at his own face.

“It's okay. You two are so chill it's almost zen. And he seems like a sweetheart.”

“He is,” Loki nods.

“He makes me think of Buddy the Elf,” she says, and Loki throws a hand over his mouth and doubles over laughing.

Thor is asleep when Loki next checks on him, so he goes back out to the kitchen and bakes fresh cinnamon rolls for breakfast. He keeps his crying as quiet as he can as he cleans up the kitchen and then goes to the bathroom to calm his face with cold water before he peeks at his brother.

Loki reads at the kitchen table until it's time to take a look at Thor and go to work.

“Thor?” Loki whispers.

“Yeah,” Thor says, softly.

“What's nine times twelve?”

“A hundred and eight. Why?”

“Because you have a concussion.”

“I'm fine.”

“So you're not going to freak out when Natasha comes in here in a couple hours to check on you?”

“No promises,” Thor says. “I'm not used to seeing girls in the bedroom.”

“Try to hide your morning-wood,” Loki sighs, and Thor snorts.

“She gives exactly zero fucks about my dick, dude. I think it'll be fine.”

“There's food in the fridge. Eat it. And ask for help if you need it. I'll see you at noon-ish.”

“See you,” Thor says, and Loki hears Thor's lips smack the air with a kiss and then blow a puff of breath behind him as he walks toward the door.

Natasha texts Loki at six am, as promised.

he's alert & remembers me. tried 2 get me 2 watch in bruges w/ him. convinced him not 2 do that 2 his brain & 2 go back 2 bed instead.

u r a goddess, Loki types back. wut do u want me 2 bring back 4 u from the bakery?

wut u got?

cookies, tarts, breads, bagels, muffins, croissants, pies, scones, cakes, cheesecakes & 1000 other things.

croissants & a slice of cheesecake – smth w/ chocolate plz, she replies.

k

Thor also texts, as requested in Loki's numerous post-it notes.

i'm peeing on everything u love.

in that case i'll be doing a lot of pickling & making my own sauerkraut in the coming weeks, Loki responds.

i'll b good, Thor promises.

At eight, Natasha texts again.

we ate all the amrakhand (thnx i'm addicted now) & thor had about a dozen cookies & cinnamon buns - each. he seems fine. u didn't tell me he's a morning person. he tried 2 get me 2 watch in bruges again. almost fell for it. talked him into kill bill vol 1 instead. starting it now. fear he will pause it & wake me if i fall asleep.

he's an all-day person, Loki answers. always cheerful (unless u piss him off, which is hard)

how have u not strangled him? she asks.

have u seen how thick his neck is?

fair enough.

Thor texts, too.

we're rubbing our butts on all ur stuff.

i'll ask dr. banner to come over & deal w/ ur chafed assholes, Loki replies.

Loki's phone chimes at ten am, like clockwork, with a text from Natasha.

he asked if he could take a shower. told him hard slippery surface bad idea. he doesn't even stink. y does he want a shower?

have u seen his hair? Loki asks. he's a mermaid, obvs. doesn't want 2 dry out.

explains the gills. he asked for in bruges again. made him say alphabet backwards as punishment.

good, Loki types. don't make him count prime numbers tho. he has a memory like an elephant & is cray good at math - u will regret it.

“What are you smiling about?” Thor asks, shutting off the laptop and rolling onto his back.

“Your brother is funny,” Natasha says.

“You don't have any wrinkles here,” Thor says, dragging the tips of his middle and index finger from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth. “Is he the only one who makes you laugh?”

“Yours are deep,” she deflects, looking at the lines on Thor's face. “But I guess if I spent twenty-two years with him, mine would be, too.”

“Do his other coworkers think he's funny?” Thor says.

“Nick, the owner, tries not to, but fails. I suspect that's not the funny you mean, though,” she says, and Thor nods. “I saw your brother when he interviewed. I sent out a mass text message before he started. Promised I'd cause permanent problems for anyone who said bigoted shit about the new kid.”

Thor smiles and it makes Natasha think of black holes. Of event horizons. Things you can never get away from once you get too close. Beautiful and impossible. Devastating. She turns her head and stares at the ceiling.

“He's charming and very good at his job,” she continues. “That won the skeptics over pretty quickly.”

“He's never complained about anyone, and that's unusual,” Thor tells her. “Even in college he'd still hear some shit behind his back in the halls. Nothing too vile, but always the speculation and critique. She's too big for a woman. Why does she dress like a man? If she just wore something feminine she'd look like a model. He looks like a girl. His hips are so wide. Is that a man or a woman? and all that crap. I knew something was going on when he didn't have any issues with the bar itself. There are customers he hates, but not coworkers. I'm glad he doesn't have to have his guard up all the time.”

She nods.

“He's different here,” she says.

“Meaning he isn't different,” Thor says, and Natasha wonders how many people have underestimated the contents of Thor's pretty blond head.

“Exactly,” she answers. “At work he's a chameleon. He broadens his shoulders or swings his hips or lowers his voice depending on who he's serving to make himself as appealing as possible. Here he's just... a boy. His limbs are loose and he seems about ten years younger and two tons lighter... apart from the stress about your concussion.”

“Yeah,” Thor sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “When he gets home I have to convince him I'm not going to die in my sleep... and then nag him about taking a vacation.”

“I can nag him about that, too, if you want,” she offers.

“Please,” Thor answers instantly. “He fucking needs it.”

  
  


7 Clutching

 

Loki returns a little after noon with the promised baked goods and a loaf of pumpernickel for Thor. The bread is gone before Nat and Loki are half way through their first croissants.

Thor makes sad puppy eyes as Natasha and Loki eat their chocolate cheesecake. Loki brings the last massive bite toward his own mouth – the best bite, with the perfect ratio of graham cracker crust to filling – and Thor makes a high-pitched noise of panic. Loki huffs, rolls his eyes, and redirects his fork to Thor's mouth.

“This is my own fault for rewarding bad behavior,” Loki sighs, as Thor moans around his mouthful of cheesecake.

“Where are you putting all this shit?” Natasha boggles, seeing the veins in Thor's arms and remembering that she didn't see an ounce of fat on him when he was wandering around naked.

Thor shrugs.

“I think he has a tapeworm,” Loki says.

“I'm gonna name it Colin,” Thor says.

“Because it sounds like colon,” Loki guesses, and Thor nods, grinning. “I can't believe I let you eat at the table with us like a real human being,” Loki sighs.

The twins thank Nat for her assistance and she heads home.

Thor waits in bed while Loki takes his shower.

Thor listens for the water shutting off. Then the bathroom door opening. He hears Loki's door close and assumes it's out of habit. Waits for Loki to open it again so the air conditioning will reach his room.

Waits twenty minutes and hears nothing.

Thor gets up and taps on Loki's door.

“Wanna move your bed back out?”

“No,” Loki says, and Thor knows that's a lie. It also sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Thor opens the door and sees his brother's bare back, spine like an ellipse, as Loki lies on his side, curled into a ball. The temperature in the room is already climbing in the absence of the AC.

Thor sits on the edge of the bed and leans over Loki's body to see his brother's blotchy red face. He curls a hand over Loki's shoulder.

“What's wrong?” Thor whispers.

“Are you serious?” Loki chokes. “What's wrong? I could have lost you. Jesus, Thor, do you think I could live through that? You're the only person on this whole shit-hole of a planet who actually knows me. And you could have died. And it would have been my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you remember why you didn't get any sleep the night before your accident?” Loki asks, rolling over.

Thor stares at Loki with a confused twist on his face. Loki wills himself not to vomit and vows not to tell Thor the answer if Thor doesn't remember.

“You're serious,” Thor says.

“Yes, I'm serious. Concussions cause memory loss.”

“We watched a storm roll in from my bedroom window and then we made love until my alarm went off,” Thor answers, and Loki lets slip a strangled cry.

“Are you guessing?” Loki asks, after a moment.

“No,” Thor huffs, annoyed at being doubted. “We didn't make each other come, but we kissed and held each other and you had your-”

“And I kept you up all night and you were so exhausted and distracted that you fucked up at work and got hurt.”

“No,” Thor says slowly. “There is no connection whatsoever between what we did that night and what happened at work. The concussion was one hundred percent the fault of that fuckwit Justin Hammer.”

Loki gapes.

“Jesus Christ,” Loki breathes, rolling over so that he's curled around Thor. “How has he not been fired yet?”

“He has now,” Thor says.

“What the fuck were they waiting for?”

“This, apparently.”

“What did he do this time?”

“He was sloppy with the table saw and launched a piece of plywood. It flew over and smacked me in the back of the head from the other side of the site.”

“If I ever see him, I'll kill him.”

“I'll help,” Thor sighs. “The stuff I don't remember starts when I got hit.”

“Sorry,” Loki says, gaping and staring. “Fuck. I should have known it wasn't your fault. Sorry you got hurt. Sorry to dump all this shit on you while you're getting over a concussion.”

“I'm fine. And injury is always a risk of the job,” Thor sighs. “That's not exactly news.”

“I know. And I try telling myself that this was, statistically, your one close call, and that that means you're less likely to have another... but Ican't lose you. I couldn't live like that. The world would be empty.”

“What about you?” Thor counters. “You'd risk leaving me behind - death is a possibility in every surgery.”

Loki's eyes widen.

“How did you know?” Loki breathes.

Thor just cocks his head and makes a face like Loki is being stupid.

“I decided against it a while ago, actually,” Loki admits. “Mastectomy is... there's probably not much point in it. I'm almost flat-chested as it is and I don't want to take testosterone. I thought I'd grow up to look like Cary Grant or Liam Neeson – tall and broad. Like you. But hormones can't change my bones. Doesn't matter. This meat-suit isn't who I am. It's just a tool. And it works fine. I'm not going to warp it with hormones and spend every spare minute in a gym. I'm not going to dump fifteen grand on elective surgery and risk death, pain, infection, scarring, and loss of sensation for convention or someone else's comfort. Fuck it. I'm going to buy something awesome. Or a bunch of awesome shit. Or a house. I don't know.”

Thor laughs, beaming at his brother.

“How much do you have saved?” Thor asks.

“Almost thirty grand now,” Loki says, shyly.

“Holy shit,” Thor breathes.

Loki shrugs his shoulder. Their dad only stopped paying their bills after they had finished their studies, so this summer has been the first time they've used their own bank accounts for rent and food. They find it weirdly satisfying.

“That's amazing,” Thor says.

“You must have a bundle saved, too,” Loki murmurs.

“Yeah, but I've been working year round. You've always had to cut your hours during school.”

Loki hums.

“But I must have freaked you out,” Loki murmurs, and Thor's brow furrows. “That night,” Loki clarifies. “We crossed a line. That was in-”

“Don't,” Thor interrupts. “Please. Don't diagnose it. Call it incredible. Inescapable. Inevitable. Innate. Innocent. Intimate. But not that. This is just... us.”

“Okay,” Loki whispers, nodding and reaching to squeeze Thor's hand and rub Thor's knuckles with his thumb. “But... it really didn't freak you out? At all?”

“We're the same, remember? There's no line to cross. Nothing's changed.”

Loki squeezes Thor's hand again.

“This is not on you,” Thor says, pointing to the back of his head. “That night was the most fun I've ever had. Happiest I've been in my whole life. I've missed you so much.”

“You see me every day,” Loki laughs.

Thor shakes his head no.

“Ever since he split us up,” Thor says. “I've missed hearing you breathing in the middle of the night. And us sneaking into each other's beds to snuggle. And being boys. Having weekends. Having whole days - whole summers – together.”

Loki nods.

“You stopped coming to my room when we were thirteen,” Thor murmurs. “And when I tried sneaking into yours, your door was locked. Did I do something that pissed you off? Or scared you?”

“No. It wasn't you. I thought...” Loki sighs and rolls onto his back, rubbing his face and pushing his hair off of his forehead. “By then my breasts were getting bigger... and it was like my body was betraying me - and you - us. Turning me into a woman. Robbing you of your brother. I thought we weren't the same anymore. I didn't want you to have to feel them against your chest when you held me.”

Thor is crying silently and shaking his head no.

“And Dad would have been pissed if he'd found me in your bed at that point, Thor, you know he would. But it would have been a thousand times worse if he'd found you in mine. The possibility that he could think you were abusing me... There was no way in hell I was going to risk that.”

Thor is sobbing now, with a shaking hand cupped over his gaping mouth. He didn't even cry like this is their grandfather's funeral.

Loki rubs Thor's back until it passes.

“Come on,” Loki says, rising.

He takes Thor by the arm and leads him out of his hot little bedroom and back to Thor's cool white sheets.

They lie on their sides with their arms linked between their chests while the last of Thor's crying slowly subsides.

“I've missed you, too,” Loki offers, gently. “Missed how open we were with each other. And just having you close - I swear my blood pressure drops to legally-dead when you're near me. My crocodile-brain knows I'm safe with you.”

Thor gives his brother a watery smile and ducks his head to kiss Loki's knuckles.

“Still,” Thor murmurs. “This is dangerous.”

“You won't hurt me,” Loki soothes.

“It's not myself I'm scared of - not you or us. It's everyone else. People are plenty scary as it is, but if we got caught, they'd be even worse. They'd make everything so hard... I don't want to make life miserable for you...”

“But,” Loki supplies.

“But it doesn't make me want you any less.”

“How do you want me?” Loki whispers, hearing his heartbeat in his ears.

Thor parts his lips and drops his eyes. There's a long pause before he lifts his gaze to meet Loki's own again and then begins.

“When I got out of bed yesterday morning, my thigh was wet where you'd been pressing against it. And... as soon as I was in the bathroom I ran my fingers through the slick spot and then licked them clean.”

Loki takes a short breath and nods.

“What did I taste like?” Loki whispers.

“Kind of like... lettuce... and salt. Maybe a tiny bit of onion.”

“That's always been my assessment too,” Loki laughs. “Is it what you were expecting?”

“No,” Thor admits. “I thought it would have that weird animal taste that semen always has.”

“I looked for a trace of you on my own skin, too, but I couldn't find one.”

“I was trying not to bludgeon you with my erection,” Thor says.

“Thoughtful, but unnecessary,” Loki laughs.

“I want to do it again,” Thor says. “I want to taste you.”

“Same,” Loki says, smiling.

“I was hoping you'd say that,” Thor sighs, and his muscles go slack. “Did I do anything wrong?”

“No,” Loki says immediately. “No,” again, softly. “It was lovely.”

“I don't know what you like,” Thor says, voice apologetic. “And what you don't like.”

“Neither do I,” Loki admits. “It's so different with a partner,” Loki marvels. “I had no idea. My body responded in ways it never had before.”

“How so?”

Loki bites his lips and holds his breath a moment.

“I've never felt my breasts before. Not without touching them, and even then, it didn't feel... sexual. But that night I was so aware of them. They were almost burning. It was all I could do not to grab your hands and put them there... But I don't know what's allowed either. I don't know what you want – or don't want – to do to me. I know my body isn't what you-”

“There's nothing I wouldn't do to you if you wanted it,” Thor interrupts, and Loki's eyes go wide. “And there's no part of you that I don't want. But there are things I don't know how to do,” Thor admits. “At least, not on a practical level. Some things are only theoretical for me.”

“Me too,” Loki laughs. “Everything, actually.”

“You masturbate, though, right?” Thor murmurs.

“Yeah. But I don't know how your body works. And mine is full of surprises at the moment.”

Thor nods.

Despite Loki's objections, Thor adopts his brother's sleep schedule for his week of sick leave. From one pm to eight-thirty pm they sleep in Thor's bed the way they did when they were boys. Their goodnight kisses straddle sexuality and fraternity. Their mouths stay closed but their lips clasp each other too closely and linger too long for their motions to be mistaken for something entirely brotherly. But Loki needs to sleep, so kisses are all they share. They drift off with Thor's erection pressing wetly into the base of Loki's belly. It gives Loki a safe and easy thrill, and a gentle introduction to his brother's body. The way Thor's cock bobs between them as they kiss - independent of Thor's hips - makes Loki grin. He thinks of puppies wagging their tails and wills himself not to laugh. When they wake, Thor is hard again, so it seems as if he's had an erection for seven hours, which is an idea that makes Loki wet.

They reluctantly rise, have a hearty meal, and then Loki has to go.

Thor spends his free time researching female anatomy and giving the apartment a very tardy spring-cleaning.

The two or three hours between Loki's shift at the bar and his shift at the bakery are spent making out. After the first night, Loki learns to wear a panty-liner so that he doesn't have to change his underwear at the end of it. To feel Thor's tongue slide in past his lips makes Loki's cunt leak and clench. Makes his belly quiver and his whole body burn.

Thor's kisses are not like Amy's. They have more range. The delicacy is still there, but it frequently builds to a brutality that Loki finds thrilling. Thor kisses with teeth, and when he sucks on Loki's tongue, it seems as though he might take it out by the root and swallow it whole. And even the delicate moments are different. Because Thor is not teasing or playing at this. This is not the beginning of their intimacy. They are already decades down this road. When Thor kisses Loki gently with his eyes open, their bellies bump together as they both gasp and surge toward each other.

When Thor sucks Loki's tongue in a slow rhythm, it makes Loki grind his hips: it feels like Thor is somehow sucking his cock, and that isn't a sensation Loki ever expected to experience.

They keep their clothes on, and the privacy makes it easier for Loki to let himself go, humming and moaning and offering up his throat.

On Thursday night, Thor grabs Loki's butt as he mouths Loki's throat; Loki groans so loud it's almost a shout.

At noon on Friday, Loki's phone chimes in his pocket. He sees a text from Thor saying he's picking up sushi for their dinner.

Loki stops in a pharmacy on his walk home. Never a thing he would have expected to find exciting, but his pulse is slightly elevated and he's having to put considerable effort into tamping down his grin so he doesn't look like a creep. He gets KY jelly, which is his go-to lube because it stays put and it doesn't irritate his skin. Then he stares at the rows of condoms and wonders about size. They're pricey, and he hates being wasteful. It's never occurred to him that safe sex and birth control are so prohibitively expensive. You can't be poor and have safe sex. It's impossible. He's lucky to be able to afford it. His health insurance covers his birth control pills, but if it didn't, they'd be at least a dollar a day, plus nearly two hundred for the exam and the pap smear required to get the prescription for the pills in the first place. And now condoms are more than a dollar apiece. He finds that shocking. The thought that people might have to ration their lovemaking... or risk pregnancy or illness.

He reads the boxes but finds them unhelpful. He's never needed a condom and has no idea how much they stretch or what the average penis looks like.

He decides that the adult thing to do is ask. He calls his brother.

“Hey,” Thor says, and Loki can hear his brother smiling.

“Hey. Feeling okay to drive, then, I take it?” Loki chides, teasing.

“I'm fine,” Thor soothes. “You home?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, I did something ridiculous and it's a surprise, so if you get home before I do, you have to hide in your room when I unload the truck, okay? And no peeking.”

“Should I be worried?” Loki asks.

“Definitely.”

“Oh God. Did you get a puppy?”

“No,” Thor answers, laughing. “Nothing with a pulse. I just couldn't resist.”

“I don't know whether to be eager or afraid.”

“Shut up. You'll love it.”

“If you say so.”

“So, what's up? Where are you?”

“I'm at CVS. I just... need to know what size you wear,” Loki answers, and hopes his brother knows what he's talking about.

“Oh,” Thor says. “The standard size is fine. But you don't need to get anything. I picked some up yesterday morning.”

“Oh, okay. Should I get more? Twelve still isn't a whole lot.”

“No, it isn't,” Thor laughs. “I only got a couple small boxes for now, though, actually, because I wasn't sure what you'd like and I didn't want to have eleven rejects lying around.”

“Oh,” Loki, says, and then laughs softly. “I didn't even think of that.”

Thor hums a fond sound.

“Where are you?” Loki asks.

“Toro,” Thor says.

“Then I'll probably beat you back,” Loki tells him.

“I'll text you when I'm close.”

“All right. See you in a bit.”

When Loki gets home he puts his lube in his nightstand and strips down to his skin to better enjoy the air. He digs the chopsticks out of the silverware drawer and sets the table, then texts Thor to tell him he'll be in the shower.

The sound of rustling plastic greets Loki's ears when he comes out of the bathroom. His hair is dripping onto his shoulders and flowing down his skin before it gets caught by the towel slung around his hips.

Thor hears the door opening and shouts.

“Don't peek!”

Loki closes his eyes and blindly gropes his way into his own bedroom.

“Okay,” Thor calls, a minute later, and Loki slowly comes out of his room. “It's not quite ready yet, so we're going to have to sleep in your bed and you can't go in my room.”

Loki raises his eyebrows and wonders what, exactly, Thor has done.

Thor is only wearing boxers and is visibly very cold. The weather is cooling off, but they still have the AC cranked.

“Sushi?” Thor says, smiling, and Loki nods.

“You wanna turn off the air?” Loki asks, smirking and staring at Thor's nipples. They're balled up into two perky pink knots.

“I could ask you the same question,” Thor notes, and Loki looks down at his own taut breasts.

“Mmm. Our tits look so good like this, though,” Loki says, and Thor laughs.

They sit down to their artfully arranged feast and nibble pickled ginger to cleanse their palates.

Loki's shoulders are slightly slumped and his eyes are getting redder every day. Sleep deprivation, not sadness, because Loki can't seem to stop smiling to save his life. Thor is glad the work-week is almost over for his brother. The anticipation has to be excruciating, but Thor isn't interested in rushing things; he intends to save in-depth explorations for the weekend.

They brush their teeth and sardine themselves in Loki's little bed.

Loki doesn't get back from the bar until after two am, because Friday nights are always busy.

Thor made them smoothies for dinner so that Loki wouldn't have to cook and they could spend at least a little time together.

“Do you want to see your surprise now, or wait until you get back from the bar tomorrow?” Thor asks.

“What would you recommend?” Loki asks.

“I'd recommend waiting,” Thor admits. “It could be kind of like a trap.”

Loki smiles. They sit together in Loki's bed and sip their drinks.

“Turn around,” Thor says, so Loki shuffles around until he's facing away from his brother. He feels the bed sag behind him as Thor scoots closer and then fuzzy blond legs are bent up like armrests on either side of him.

Thor starts rubbing Loki's back. Long passes of cool palms up and down, fingers moving like waves as they follow the shape of the ribs. Then gently kneading along the flanks. Thor's fingertips tug lightly at the edges of Loki's breasts. They soothe the soft band of flesh that follows the back edge of Loki's armpits. It makes Loki moan. Thor's thumbs dig into the knots in Loki's neck. Loki can feel his muscles going slack beneath his brother's ministrations. His breathing is almost as slow as a sleeper's. Thor does the scalp last, moving the skin over the skull and gently tugging at the hair. Pinching the earlobes and tracing the temples to finish the light massage. He pulls Loki back against him and kisses the side of his neck.

“If you take a vacation, I'll give you all the back rubs you can stand,” Thor whispers.

Loki hums and then drags himself to the bathroom and back out to work.

He is counting down the hours. When he gets done at the bakery at noon, he only has fourteen more hours until his weekend begins, and most of them will fly by in sleep.

“Get something in your eye?” Thor asks, when Loki comes through the door.

“Yeah... wind blew something in there,” Loki says, and then leans in to meet the hello kiss Thor gives him. “Did I smear my mascara?”

“Little bit,” Thor says. “Is your eye okay?”

“Yeah, it's fine.”

Loki started wearing mascara in high school when he noticed that all the other boys had thick black lashes. Thor was surprised when the little pink and green tube of Maybelline made an appearance on the bathroom counter.

The effect of the cosmetic was doubly unexpected. Thor thought it would make Loki look more female, but the opposite proved true. And it made Loki's eyes even more stunning, too. Sometimes Thor would stare so much at dinner that Loki would get self-conscious and ask if he had food on his face. Thor would shake his head no and try to snap himself out of it. Loki's eyelashes made Thor think of butterfly wings, slowly fanning Loki's cheeks, which made Thor want butterfly kisses, but he felt a little silly for even thinking about asking Loki for them at that age.

Thor makes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while Loki showers, then they eat and fall asleep. They've found that they don't mind sleeping in Loki's tiny bed together. It leaves them no choice but to hold each other close to keep from falling off the mattress. The contact is welcome. Loki likes to feel the weight of Thor's arms. Likes to use Thor as a body-pillow.

For a few hours, Thor falls asleep on his belly with Loki draped over his back like a pale cape. They both like that, though they hadn't meant to fall asleep in that pose. They were talking and cuddling and drifted off. Thor enjoyed it because it let him be the little spoon, which didn't work out as well when they were lying on their sides, since Loki was too narrow.

Saturday night is blessedly busy, which means Loki makes a small fortune in tips, and, though he's stuck at the bar until two am, the time flies by.

When he gets outside, he's pleased to find that the air is cool and tart with the promise of autumn. The bitter scent of green that's past its prime is creeping in around the world's edges. When Loki gets home, Thor has the windows open. The sound of the wind in the trees is welcome.

“I told Erik I'd start Tuesday morning,” Thor says, and Loki smiles, grateful that they'll have two whole days together.

8 Loving

 

Thor got chicken fried rice for their dinner. Loki has been craving it for days. This has happened for as long as they've been living together. Loki will want something, and Thor will get it without Loki ever mentioning the thing. Thor will have a craving and wake up to find that Loki has made it. They never argue about what they're going to eat.

They pop the food in the microwave and then sit down with relieved grunts.

“We're invisible,” Loki says, as they dig into their dinner.

Thor is slurping sprouts into his mouth. He cocks an eyebrow until he's finished chewing.

“What?”

“To the rest of the world,” Loki clarifies. “Any time I look around at the bar, everyone's on their phone. And it's not just the people who are there alone, either. People on dates and out with friends are all looking at their phones instead of at each other.”

“Yeah, I've noticed that lately, too,” Thor says, shaking his head.

“It's shitty manners,” Loki continues, “But, since we're not on their phones, it basically means no one can see us. Everyone's obsessed with their own online identities. And they all want to get attention, not give it. It's perfect. We couldn't ask for more privacy.”

Thor laughs.

“Mmm!” Loki hums sharply, as his eyes go bright, but his mouth is full of rice.

“All right?” Thor asks, and Loki nods and hastens his chewing.

“When can I see my surprise?”

“When you're ready for bed,” Thor says.

Loki raises his eyebrows and smiles.

The smile stays put throughout dinner and all the way into the bathroom, where Thor can't see it anymore. He pretty sure it's still there in the shower when he hears the water come on.

He clears their plates and closes all the blinds, then heads to his room to fuss with the gift and hope that the build-up doesn't render the whole thing underwhelming.

Thor hears tapping on the door behind him ten minutes later.

“Can I look yet?” Loki asks, voice muffled by the paneling.

“Yeah, but it's gonna be silly,” Thor warns.

Loki slides open the door and then grins so wide his vision blurs.

“A cloud,” Loki says.

“I hoped you'd remember, but I wasn't sure,” Thor says, blushing faintly. “I hit the back to school clearance sales pretty hard.”

“I see,” Loki laughs.

There are huge bags from at least five different department stores folded up in the corner of Thor's room.

The bed is piled with dozens of pillows in all shapes and sizes – king, twin, body pillows, throw pillows – and at least six fluffy comforters and four feather beds. They're all covered in white pillowcases and duvets.

They tried something like this in Thor's bed when they were kids, stealing their parent's bedding and piling it onto Thor's mattress. But Thor's bed wasn't big enough for both of the twins to stretch out on, and there weren't enough pillows and blankets to cover the mattress in more than three layers.

Loki climbs straight in, tips onto his back, and moans.

“I love it.”

“Me too,” Thor sighs, dropping down beside his brother.

“I got a surprise for you, too,” Loki smiles. “I bought us plane tickets home for a quick visit. I figured, since we both have two days off together, we should take advantage of it. Flight leaves in six hours, so we should start packing.”

Thor nods slowly. His eyes are wide and getting wetter by the second. His lips are drawn thin. Nostrils flared.

Loki rolls toward him and starts laughing.

“I'm kidding, you asshat,” Loki giggles. “Jesus, relax.”

“Fuck,” Thor shudders. “I was gonna cry.”

Loki shakes his head and tickles his brother.

“This has been the longest week of my life, Thor. We're not leaving this apartment unless there's a fire.”

Thor lets out a relieved sigh and leans in to rub his nose against Loki's. Loki drags his fingertips down Thor's chest until they're buried in wiry curls.

“Can I have a crash-course,” Loki whispers.

“In what?” Thor asks, softly.

“You.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Thor says, smiling. “Can you do one for me?”

Loki nods.

Thor looks down at himself.

“The main thing is trying not to upset my testicles. You can cup them and touch them gently, or kiss them and lick them and stuff like that, but don't suck them or move them around - I'll get sick to my stomach. Penises are pretty fragile, too,” Thor says, picking up his sleeping member and moving it in a wide circle. “It's flexible when it's soft like this, but its also more easily irritated by textures - the seam of boxer briefs drove me crazy, so I had to switch to plain boxers... And then, when it's erect, it kind of has to stay at its natural angle and you have to be careful not to bend it or pull my foreskin back too far... Err on the side of caution, for sure. And ask me anything you want to know, any time. You're not gonna kill the mood by talking, so don't worry about it. But hurting my cock would be a boner-killer.”

Loki smiles and nods and kisses Thor's nose.

“Wetter is better, obviously,” Thor continues. “Can never have too much lube - especially when it comes to my butt.”

Loki snorts. Thor bites his lip, still thinking.

“I had blood work done after Steve left,” Thor says. “And that came back clear, so you're safe there. Ummmm...” Thor ruffles his hair and rumples his brow, looking himself over for issues. “Oh, there can be sperm in precum, so watch out for that. We'll have to make sure we keep our hands clean.”

“I'm sure the pill will be plenty. I take it like clockwork,” Loki says. “Just... better safe than sorry.”

Thor nods.

“Your turn,” Thor says.

Loki looks down at his own body and sighs.

“My nipples are fairly sensitive. If you pinch them, it'll hurt. You can touch my breasts firmly, but don't move them too far from where they live, or stretch them too far from their natural shape. No nails or teeth, please. And when I've got my period, they ache, so you might not be able to touch them at all.

Thor looks sad and sorry.

“It's not your fault,” Loki laughs.

“It still sucks, though,” Thor says, frowning, and Loki smiles fondly.

“It seems like, if you save my breasts for later, they feel things more clearly. Like, if you kind of tease them and trace around them without touching them right away it makes them more sensitive, but that's something I've only noticed... recently.”

“And do you want me to call them breasts?” Thor asks, softly.

“Yeah,” Loki nods. “That's what they are. Everyone has them. Males get breast cancer, too.”

“Will you call mine breasts?” Thor whispers.

“Would you like me to?”

Thor nods.

Loki spreads his legs slightly and gestures at his crotch.

“Sometimes it just tickles and feels weird – and kind of annoying - if I touch myself before I'm turned on. It's better if I work my way in from my belly or my legs, and then, by the time I'm wet, everything feels good.”

“Same,” Thor says, and nods. “I don't really like anything dry on the head of my cock.”

Loki nods, then scoots back and shifts pillows around so that he's aimed at his brother. He props his back up and leans over, then puts the soles of his feet together and lowers his knees until Thor can see everything.

“So...” Loki says, spreading himself open in one fluid motion with two deft fingers and then pointing to the bright pink nub that's nestled in jumbled flesh and resting at twelve o'clock. “This is my clitoris. It's ridiculously sensitive, so please be gentle with it. Don't touch it when it's dry, and don't scrape it with a fingernail. Most of the time you can rub it indirectly and that'll get me off. Direct contact can do it, too, but it's almost painful, so I'm not always in the mood.”

Thor raises his eyebrows slightly and nods.

“Pussy lips,” Loki says, tapping the labia majora. “More pussy lips,” he says, opening and closing the labia minora.

Loki hears Thor's breathing change. Feels it. Puffing faster against his leg.

“Do you want me to say pussy?” Thor breathes.

“You can say vulva, or vagina, or labia if you want. I like pussy, though,” Loki admits, quietly. “I think it's sexy.”

Thor nods and squeezes Loki's ankle.

Loki leans over farther, folding himself almost in half.

“That's my urethra hiding in there. And that's my vagina right below it – only clean wet things go in there. And there's my sad excuse for a taint and then my asshole. And this set-up is why female bodies are basically machines that make UTIs.”

Thor groans a laugh.

“If you touch my anus, then you have to wash yourself really well before you touch anything else,” Loki says. “And nothing goes in my butt, 'kay? You can touch the outside, though. That feels good.”

“Okay,” Thor nods. “You can put two fingers - maybe three, since yours are nice and thin - in me. Or a toy. Only if you want to. And with lots of lube... and a heads-up... If I'm gonna play with my butt, I like to have a beer or two earlier in the evening so I'm extra relaxed.”

“You like it, huh?” Loki murmurs.

“Yeah,” Thor grins. “But I have a prostate.”

“Oh shit, that's right,” Loki says, and huffs a laugh at himself. “I always forget about that. They do a digital rectal exam during my pelvic at my annual... and it just feels so weird. Like when you get water up your nose.”

Thor laughs.

“For me, it tickles,” Thor murmurs. “Sometimes I can feel it in my penis. It's nice.”

Loki folds his legs shut and curls up on his side. Thor mirrors him and plays with Loki's hands.

“Have you had any lately?” Thor asks.

“Rectal exams?”

“No,” Thor laughs. “Urinary tract infections.”

“Oh. No,” Loki says. “Not since middle school. I've been lucky. But sex is an easy way to get them. I should pee after we do anything. Don't let me forget.”

“'Kay.”

Thor remembers Loki getting a urinary tract infection in first grade from avoiding the school bathrooms and holding it until he got home. Loki didn't like using the girls' bathroom, but the other boys always tattled on him for using theirs, so he gave up.

Thor had walked into their bedroom one afternoon and found Loki on his back in bed with his knees in the air and his bare bottom at the edge of the mattress, shorts and underpants in a heap beside him. Frigga was bent between Loki's bony legs, frowning, with an array of Q-tips and a tube of A + D ointment in her left hand. Her right hand was carefully daubing the soothing salve onto Loki's angry little vulva while Loki's belly went slack with relief, rounding and rising above his tiny hips.

“Are you hurt?” Thor whispered.

Loki explained that his crotch was burning and it stung when he peed. Thor thought that sounded awful. He had smacked his own crotch on the frame of his bicycle once and it was easily the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn't imagine having to endure something like that every time he needed to tinkle.

Loki had to go to the doctor the next morning, which was no fun, but then he got antibiotics that tasted like candy and fixed his burning crotch problem, which was wonderful.

Cranberry juice became a staple in their household after that.

Thor wonders how soon Frigga knew that she had two sons.

She didn't scold Thor or shoo him away when he walked in on them that day. Didn't stop him when he came closer and leaned in to see the shiny skin that was so obviously the wrong color even Thor's inexperienced eyes could tell – Loki's flesh was pink, pink, pink, pink, red. And Frigga never did anything to indicate that Loki's shape was different from Thor's in any significant way, or that it was something that Loki needed to hide from his brother. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just a body that was, in this case, a bit under the weather.

She had never hidden herself from her children either. There was never anything forbidden about her. When they were little they liked to trace the silver lines of the stretchmarks on her belly, and she would always let them. She said they belonged to the twins, because it was being pregnant with them that put the marks on her skin. The lines looked like lightning, zig-zagging from the sky of her ribs to the ground of her hips. Loki asked if they had caused the marks on the tops of her legs, too. Frigga smiled and said no, that those were just from growing up. Loki and Thor were pleased by the thought that they might get the silver streaks some day, too.

These days Thor has a few stretchmarks on his upper arms, from muscles coming fast when he started carpentry. Loki is tracing the ones on the inside of Thor's left bicep.

Loki has stretchmarks on the tops of his thighs just below his hips, like Frigga. He gained weight there his first semester in college, since he didn't have time for volleyball. But when he picked up the job at the restaurant, it all melted away again.

Thor likes seeing the evidence of that extra weight. The reminder. Like geology. Once upon a time, there was more Loki.

“What does shaving do?” Thor murmurs.

Loki shaves the posterior half of his vulva, but leaves everything else alone.

“Makes it easier to clean up the blood,” Loki shrugs. “Keeps tampon strings from getting glued to my pubes.”

“Don't you cut yourself to pieces?” Thor asks.

Thor still nicks himself at least once – but more often half a dozen times - whenever he shaves his face.

“No,” Loki laughs. “Not everyone is as hopeless with a razor as you are.”

Thor pinches Loki's butt and then drags Loki closer.

“If I'm so hopeless, maybe I should grow a beard,” Thor muses.

“Don't you dare.”

Thor grins and then bites his lip and rubs Loki's back for a moment.

“Is my tongue a clean wet thing?” Thor asks, and Loki takes a quick breath.

“Yeah.”

“Mmm. Good to know,” Thor rumbles, and slides his hand down Loki's spine to knead Loki's behind.

Loki leans forward and sets his lips to Thor's, squeezing them gently, occasionally sucking them into his mouth and nibbling them. His eyes drift over Thor's features and sometimes meet Thor's own electric blues. Thor has never had any partners who've done this. Even Steve closed his eyes when they kissed.

Loki's tongue slides across Thor's lips, like a knock on the door, and Thor opens, tipping his head and stretching his jaw to let Loki lick into him, tracing his teeth and tickling his palate, twining their tongues together in a slippery embrace.

Loki feels Thor's cock brush his belly and he hums. He loves it. This new language that has no capacity for lies or secrets, but endless options for teasing and pleasure. Thor can't hide anything here. Not that Loki expected him to try. Still, there's nothing quite as wonderful as proof of a thing when you've wondered and wanted and waited so long. And there's the wet patch on Loki's belly, now, from Thor's cock gently leaking its intentions onto Loki's skin.

Loki is leaking too. This strange sticky dew inside him, slipping free. Rolling out an unmistakable welcome. Telling Thor just how much his brother loves him.

To the marrow.

To the core of the soul he doesn't believe in.

Past DNA.

Over every fence and wall this world has tried to wedge between them.

Loki urges Thor closer and shuffles their legs so that he's straddling Thor's thigh again. Thor slides his hand around to rub Loki's hip and then lets it drift up, caressing Loki's waist. Thor loves how dramatic the drop off is from Loki's hips to his ribs. Loki's pelvis is wider than Thor's, but Loki's waistline is downright waspish. It makes Thor feel enormous. His hand wraps around the flesh so easily. Thor's thumb bounces over Loki's ribs as his hand moves up.

Loki's arms are both around Thor's neck and his fingers are in Thor's hair, carefully skating around the fading bump on the back of Thor's head. Thor squeezes Loki's shoulder and rubs his upper arm as they kiss harder, sucking on each other's tongues in turn, pulling moans and twitches from tense bodies. And then Thor's thumb is carefully tracing the outer curve of Loki's left breast. Loki moans and breaks their kiss. He presses his forehead to Thor's and looks down over his panting chest.

Thor's thumb and index finger are shaped to Loki's breast. And then Thor's thumb sweeps up and grazes Loki's nipple. Loki moans and his hips thrust. He's breathing hard through his open mouth, hot sweet breath puffing against Thor's chest. Thor lets his fingers flow over the soft mound of flesh, cautiously following the curve and seeing the way it shifts so readily under the barest press of the pads of his fingertips.

“They're so soft,” Thor murmurs, and feels Loki's skull rock against his own as Loki nods.

Thor cups the whole of it in his hand, and Loki leans into the touch, filling Thor's palm and making Thor hum. Thor squeezes gently.

“This okay?” Thor whispers.

“Yes,” Loki pants.

Thor keeps cupping and caressing, gliding the backs of his fingers along the bottom of the breast and cautiously tracing the areola. When he sets his thumb on Loki's nipple, Loki gasps and surges forward, kissing Thor again, wet and messy. Desperate. He's still straddling Thor's right thigh and he's starting to rock his hips slightly – from side to side this time, which Thor wasn't expecting.

Loki's hand finds Thor's and sets it firmly over his left breast again, long fingers flexing.

Thor's groan is low and rough and makes Loki's hips move faster. Loki grips Thor's shoulder for support and shimmies his hips harder. He has Thor's lower lip clamped between both of his own and his face is taut. He's trying to look Thor in the eye, but his gaze is glazed and unfocused. His breathing is strange. Infrequent. Thor keeps cupping and squeezing Loki's breast as best he can. Loki's hips are faltering and then he's humming around Thor's lip and bucking, body bending forward. Loki keeps quaking and faintly rocking his hips until he goes limp, then lets his head fall back to gulp in air. He rolls away and wiggles to arrange the pillows to his liking. Thor stares at the slick skin on his thigh. It feels cool in the evening breeze. He can see where his hair is plastered to his skin by Loki's wetness.

“Will you come on my chest?” Loki says.

Thor sucks in a breath and nods, and then leans over to kiss Loki's face.

“I'll be sleepy afterward, though,” Thor admits, nuzzling Loki's flushed cheek. “Do you want to go again first?”

“I'm gonna go while you go.”

“I'll only take about ten seconds,” Thor laughs, and Loki snorts.

“I'll start, then.”

“Can I watch?” Thor breathes, and Loki nods.

Thor kisses Loki and then scoots down closer to Loki's hips.

Loki spreads his legs and dips his fingers into the mouth of his cunt, slicking them up and then slowly painting his already soaked skin with soft, aimless strokes.

The inner lips of Loki's pussy are full and long, and peek out even when he has his legs shut tight. Thor is looking forward to putting them in his mouth. They look fragile. Thor is surprised by how roughly Loki can treat himself - grinding on his thigh so hard. Thor's body couldn't take a beating like that. He'd vomit.

Thor leans in closer to watch Loki trace his labia. Something about the bright pink glistening skin nestled in all that soaked black fur makes Thor's belly clench and his cock leak. The scent is making his mouth water – salty and tart, like beer and the sea.

And the sounds are unmistakable. The wet slap and slide of skin. The quick shallow breaths and soft moans. Sex and Loki everywhere. Thor is in heaven.

Loki is circling his clitoris. Sometimes he gives it a stroke with the tip of his third finger, from the bottom up, and his hips twitch when he reaches the top.

Then Loki straightens his legs and flattens his hand. It looks like he's strumming a guitar. His fingers glide over the whole of his vulva, up and down this time instead of side to side. His hand keeps moving faster until it's a blur. His pelvis is tipping up.

“Thor,” Loki pants. “Hurry.”

Thor kneels at Loki's side and fists his cock.

Loki can't take his eyes off of it: long, fat, full, and leaking. His cunt clenches inside him at the sight.

Thor slides his foreskin up and down, moaning as he does.

“Say when,” Thor says, and leans over so that he's arched over Loki's body like a bridge, holding himself up on his left arm while his right hand keeps wringing his prick.

Loki is grimacing, struggling to keep his eyes trained on Thor's cock.

“Almost there,” Loki gasps, panting a few more times and then holding his breath.

Thor sees Loki give a sharp nod and then Loki is arching and shuddering. Thor groans as he lets go. Loki gapes as semen spurts out of Thor's slit and streaks his own heaving breasts.

Loki scoops it up greedily with both hands, first sucking it from the fingers of his left hand, to taste Thor on his own, and then from his right hand, to taste the two of them together. Thor swears softly above him and Loki offers a taste of sticky fingers. Thor leans in and opens his mouth, then sucks Loki's ring finger clean.

Thor leans back carefully and then flops down into their fluffy nest.

Loki watches him.

Sees Thor's breathing slow down and his face slacken. Hears a snore and bites his lips to keep from laughing. He had thought Thor was exaggerating.

“Thor?”

“Mmm?” Thor says, eyes fluttering open.

“Does your come always taste like watered down chocolate cake batter?”

“Depends on what I've been eating.”

“What have you been eating?”

“I might have been eating some of your semi-sweet chocolate chips,” Thor admits.

“You little shit,” Loki laughs. “I thought the bag looked low.”

Thor grins and pats his guilty belly.

They lie there in a sleepy tangle of sticky skin and let their breathing slow.

“You need to pee,” Thor remembers.

“Yeah,” Loki sighs. “Thank you.”

Loki kisses Thor and staggers off to the bathroom.

Thor can hear the shower running and realizes he should probably follow suit, so he climbs out of bed and asks Loki to leave the water running.

They meet up for cold drinks in the kitchen, sighing their satisfaction after they drain their glasses. And then Thor has Loki up in his arms and slung over his right shoulder, patting Loki's bottom with his left hand as he hauls Loki back to bed.

He tosses Loki down roughly and Loki bounces on the heap of pillows and laughs.

“What are we going to do with all of these when we're not nesting?” Loki asks, patting the pillows until Thor joins him.

“There are two of those foam fold-up mat-things at the bottom against my mattress,” Thor says. “I thought we could put your bed back in your room and then build a little couch-pile out under the AC. In case you want to have Natasha over again or anything. She won't have to get in bed with us. We'll have somewhere to sit.”

Loki grins and nods.

“C'mere,” Loki says, and pulls Thor in, wrapping him up in long arms and legs and kissing Thor's face everywhere. Nipping his eyebrows and mouthing the tip of Thor's nose.

It's late and the air is getting cooler. Loki drags pillows and blankets on top of their bodies and hugs Thor close, humming and squeezing Thor's butt.

“How many times can you come?” Thor asks.

“I don't think there's really a limit,” Loki shrugs. “I guess until I get too sore. I've never made it that far. I usually overheat or fall asleep.”

Thor hums.

“How soon can you come after you've just gone?” Loki asks.

“Depends. I could go again right now because I'm so wound up.”

“Oh?” Loki says, smirking and tickling Thor's waist.

“Mmmhmm,” Thor nods, squeezing Loki's thigh where it's draped over his side. “Do your orgasms all come from the outside, or can you get them on the inside, too?” Thor asks.

“Outside only, but they're way more intense if I'm getting vaginal stimulation at the same time.”

“Same here,” Thor nods. “If I rub my prostate while I stroke my cock, I come so hard I can see through time.”

Loki shakes with laughter in Thor's arms and Thor kisses him. Loki kisses back and they let their lips flow and fold around each other.

They can hear crickets chirping. Breeze shaking the leaves. Four lungs breathing. Hear the pop and click of lips and teeth. The buzz of hair on cotton bedding. The brush of skin as Thor rubs Loki's leg.

Loki can feel Thor's penis shifting against his hip.

“Can you put a condom on?” Loki whispers, and Thor nods and leans over the edge of the bed to open a drawer beneath it.

He comes back up with two little boxes: one of thin condoms, meant to let you feel each other more clearly; and one of ribbed condoms. Both lubricated. Loki smiles.

“These for now,” Loki says, taking the box of thin ones and carefully opening it while Thor puts the other ones away.

“I've got a bottle of your lube,” Thor offers.

“I don't think I'll need it today.”

Thor nods and Loki hands him a condom.

“You wanna do it?” Thor asks.

“Maybe next time.”

Thor tears it open and looks it over, then blows on it to see which way it's facing. He pinches the center and sets it on top of his cock like a little hat, pulls his foreskin back, and then rolls the condom down the shaft.

Loki is pleased that he can still see Thor's cock clearly through the latex and that the thing fits Thor so snugly.

They tumble back down into their nest and Loki wraps himself around Thor much more closely and comfortably. He's grinning. Thor is kissing his neck and sniffing his hair. Then he's lifting Loki's arm and nuzzling Loki's armpit.

“I didn't put deodorant on,” Loki warns.

“I actually meant to ask you not to, but forgot,” Thor says, and then hums and mouths at the furry skin while Loki twitches at how much it tickles. Thor's lips follow Loki's pectoral to where it vanishes beneath Loki's breast. Loki arches his back to thrust his chest forward and Thor stretches his jaw wide to suck as much of the milky flesh into his mouth as he can, swirling his tongue around Loki's nipple while he pulls Loki closer with a hand at the small of Loki's back. Thor shifts his head to kiss and suck on Loki's left breast. Loki rolls onto his back and lifts his arms over his head, body offered up freely and heart beating fast as Thor laps at his breasts.

Thor cups and kisses the soft curves and sees Loki's nipples pull up tight as they're chilled by the night air and the damp tracks left by his tongue.

“Come back up here,” Loki breathes.

Thor kisses Loki's bosom goodbye with a soft press of lips just below each nipple, and then crawls up the bed and dips his head to kiss Loki's neck.

Loki's hands are flowing down Thor's back and pressing in, tugging Thor in tighter.

“You want to be on top to set the pace and depth?” Thor asks.

“No,” Loki says, shaking his head. “I'll be more relaxed like this, and I'll be able to angle my hips.”

Thor nods and shifts. His legs are bracketing Loki's, but now he slides his left knee between Loki's knees and drags it to the side, spreading Loki's right thigh. He does the same for the other side and Loki gasps. Thor reaches back to drag a blanket over them again and then lets his weight rest on his brother's slim body.

“Hi,” Thor smiles, and brushes their noses together.

“Hi,” Loki grins, and tips his chin up for a kiss.

His eyes are still wide open. Thor can't look away either. There's too much to see. Loki's hair in a lovely jumble, framing his flushed face. Loki's lips, red from all the nips and nibbles Thor has given them and parted slightly to let through hurried breaths.

Thor's eyes are soft. Slightly misty. Loki knows his own are no better and that gravity will be pulling his tears out the corners of his eyes in a moment. And he knows Thor will be too sweet to mention it.

Loki lifts his arms. He runs his palms up and down Thor's sides in a slow rhythm while he leans up to suck on Thor's plump upper lip. Thor lets his body sag and Loki can feel the length of Thor's cock where it's pressed against the joint of his thigh. He spreads his legs wider and folds them up around Thor's knees.

Loki watches Thor's face and reaches down between their bodies. Thor helps by lifting his hips a little. And then Loki carefully takes Thor's cock and sets its head in the mouth of his cunt, tugging gently to urge Thor in the right direction. Thor flares his nostrils and parts his lips. Loki's features follow suit. And then four eyes go wide as Thor lowers his hips and slides in, inch by inch, watching and waiting for Loki to say when.But Loki never needs to. They're belly to belly and breathing softly.

Loki feels pleasantly full and stretched.

Thor is almost stunned by the tight soft heat.

They can't stop smiling.

Loki hooks his legs behind Thor's back and hums a happy sigh.

“You can move whenever you're ready,” Loki whispers, rubbing Thor's back in soft swirling strokes.

Thor shakes his head no and buries his face in Loki's neck.

“Not yet,” Thor says, and nibbles Loki's ear before nipping his way back to Loki's lips and dotting them with gentle kisses.

Loki licks and nudges their kisses into something wetter and wilder, sucking Thor's tongue and tracing it with his own. Clenching the muscles inside himself to make Thor twitch and moan. His right hand drifts down to rub the base of Thor's back and it makes Thor thrust. Loki loves this little taste of what's to come. All this strength above him will spend itself against his skin. Thor will want to fall asleep while Loki waits, ready for more. Thor is hopelessly outmatched, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Loki hums and sucks on Thor's neck. Lets himself drift in the familiar scent of Thor's hair. The strands hold the memory of hundreds of kisses set to the crown of Thor's head as Loki leaned down to say goodbye. And the way Thor smells is largely unchanged from those nights spent together in their beds as boys. Thor still smells like Thor – which Loki can best liken to Wheat Thins, and a whisper of whatever fruity or flowery shampoo Thor is using. Thor's shampoo choices are based on how good they smell, and if he still can't narrow it down that way, then he picks the one in the prettiest bottle.

Loki hums and gives Thor an affectionate squeeze.

The steady shifting of Loki's breathing is enough that Thor might come. The hugging and flexing make Thor feels like he's being milked, which makes his cock throb.

“Do we have milk?” Thor blurts.

“Are you writing a grocery list?” Loki asks, shaking with laughter.

The laughter makes Loki's belly clench, which squeezes Thor's cock again, which makes Thor groan.

“No,” Thor pants. “I want to pour it onto you while you're in the shower.”

Loki nods and kisses Thor's temple.

“We can do that,” Loki soothes.

Loki can feel Thor's blood tapping its name against the walls of his cunt as Thor's cock shifts with every beat of his heart.

“And we can do this again as soon as your ready,” Loki says, setting their foreheads together.

Thor nods and shifts his legs to lift his hips.

He watches Loki's face for hints.

The first few thrusts are gentle and shallow, and Loki smiles softly.

Thor grits his teeth and goes for longer glides in and out of Loki's body, leaving just the head of his prick within.

Loki's head falls back and his voice goes high in a breathy whimper.

“Like that?” Thor asks, and Loki nods fast.

Thor smiles and watches as Loki's head tips back farther and more of these new noises come from Loki's throat.

Loki doesn't mean to make these sounds.

Helpless.

High.

Soft.

Female.

All the thousands of times he's touched himself with toys and fingers have yielded nothing like this.

And it occurs to him that that's because Thor is the one making these sounds. This is as much Thor's voice as his own. The thought melts away the last shreds of self-control Loki was clinging to. His voice rises in broken cries that punctuate every swing of Thor's hips.

Loki's whimpers are like spurs in Thor's side, urging his hips on faster and harder. Thor's orgasm is building deep in his belly, pressure coiling in his cock. He's making quiet whimpers and grunts of his own.

He stares at Loki's face and Loki grins at him. And suddenly the pressure around Thor's cock is tighter than a fist and Thor realizes Loki is doing this to him deliberately. Clenching the silky walls of muscle inside himself. Making it impossible. Making his cunt so tight that Thor will last three more thrusts and then be lost.

Thor smiles and falls on the sword.

Afterward he wants to fall asleep, but he has to deal with the condom, so he can't, and it breaks his heart a bit. He has to leave his brother's beautiful sweat-soaked flushed and panting body behind him on the bed. Thor kisses Loki goodbye and Loki gives him a sympathetic smile.

“Don't forget to pee,” Thor says, as he heads to the bathroom.

“Love you,” Loki calls, and Thor smiles.

Thor ties up the condom and wraps it in tissue.

He hates the thought of putting it in the trash. He doesn't want to let this go, but semen doesn't keep, and he has no interest in explaining why there's a used condom in the freezer.

He sighs and drops the little bundle into the bin, then gets in the shower again to clean up his cock.

When he comes out, Loki is on the toilet, peeing. His long toes are wiggling against the cold floor.

Thor leaves the water running so Loki can wash off the weird lube left over from the condom.

Afterward, they meet back in bed, where they arrange the pillows and blankets into a more satisfying nest and then settle in for the snuggling that they meant to do right after the sex ended.

Thor is spooned behind his brother, kissing his nape and stroking his belly.

“Vagina feel okay?” Thor asks, and Loki smiles and turns his head, nodding and pouting for a kiss. “Want anything else right now?” Thor asks.

“No,” Loki sighs. “I want this.”

Thor buries his nose in Loki's curls and pulls Loki closer.

“My first fantasies were a lot like this,” Loki says. “When I was twelve, my daydream was that we'd lie together on the lawn at night, stargazing, and I'd just hold you. I knew what sex was, but I hadn't had that urge. I just wanted to... keep you safe. Like I had some subconscious awareness of how fragile we actually are. I got such a shock the first time I saw people having sex in a movie. All the movement. When they taught it to us in school I was struck by the stillness of it. I remember the pamphlet they gave us. I wish I'd kept it now, but it said something like, 'During sex and man and a woman lie very close together and the man places his penis in the woman's vagina-'” Loki pauses, laughing. “'Places,' like he's setting the needle to the vinyl.” Loki smiles and sighs before continuing. “'This is usually very pleasurable for both parties. After a while, the man ejaculates...' And so on... But there was never any mention of movement... or of female orgasm, come to think of it.”

Thor laughs.

“Still,” Loki says. “I thought it sounded beautiful. Just this gentle joining. And I've always loved the little blurb on my lube. 'Quickly prepares you for intimacy.' Not intercourse or insertion, but intimacy. Like the need for it is always medically urgent. Maybe it is and KY are the only ones willing to admit it.”

Thor hums and nods against Loki's neck.

9 Fulfilling

 

When they wake it's that cold quiet hour that precedes sunrise. There is just enough light to let the eyes see, but it leaves everything grey and damp-looking. A drowsy world.

The chilly air is welcome on their hot cheeks. They shift and stretch and Loki shuffles around to face his brother. Thor smiles and wipes the sleep out of Loki's eyes.

“We should get up,” Loki yawns. “Get you back on your regular schedule.”

“It's Sunday,” Thor says. “I sleep in and then we have breakfast.”

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Thor says nothing, but leans into Loki until Loki tips over onto his back, then climbs on top of him.

“Aren't you gonna sleep in?” Loki murmurs, stroking Thor's back and squeezing Thor's butt with sluggish limbs and sleep-weak fingers.

“No,” Thor says, with his lips at Loki's left cheekbone. “I'm gonna have breakfast.”

And Thor kisses the bend of Loki's jaw while Loki looks to his right to make the bone more readily available. The muscle running from Loki's ear to the base of his throat calls to Thor's lips and he follows it with soft wet kisses that make Loki think of cantaloupe and peaches: the sweet, springy, sticky-sweet flesh of Thor's mouth is their cousin somehow. Loki's breasts begin to tingle with warmth and want as Thor kisses the collarbones and then nudges and nuzzles his way back into Loki's armpits. Loki can smell them when he lifts his arms. That salty tang. Thor seems to like it: Loki felt the swipe of a tongue and the pause of Thor savoring the taste. Now the tongue has returned to gather more musk with little swipes and strokes that make Loki giggle and jerk.

Thor kisses his way south, out of Loki's left underarm, then stops to feel the weight of Loki's breast against his cheek. The flesh is full and pale and slightly cool. It looks like milk. Thor wishes that he and his brother were both lactating somehow. That they could drink and feed each other.

Thor covers Loki's breast with butterfly kisses while Loki hums. Thor correctly takes this to mean Loki likes it, and moves to do the right breast. Then he settles in to kiss and lick and suck them. He feels the strange stringy texture of the tissue within as it rolls between his lips. Feels the knot of the nipple catch in his mouth. Feels Loki's ribs rising and falling beneath his chin.

He kisses Loki's sternum and follows the line of his abdomen down. The muscles flex as he descends. Thor sticks his tongue in Loki's navel and flicks it playfully to lighten Loki's mood. He gets a quiet giggle in answer. But that's not enough, so Thor switches to making noises reminiscent of Cookie Monster while he rapidly mouths and nibbles the soft flesh at the base of Loki's belly. Loki laughs to Thor's liking this time. Thor hums and presses smacking affectionate kisses to Loki's stomach, slowing them and drawing them out as he goes. Taking time to suck and slide the flesh between his lips. Inching down and listening to the quiet bubbling of Loki's innards.

Loki's pelvis is wide. A generous cradle after the hourglass nip of the waist. Thor will be able to grip it easily when he wants to pull Loki tight against him, and the thought pleases him enormously. Thor kisses the peaks of the hips and follows the valley between Loki's right leg and his belly.

Loki's legs are straight and shut tight, with Thor crouched on top of them. Thor drags his face from side to side, running his lips and the tip of his nose through a dark thicket of curls. He kisses the tops of Loki's thighs and gets up on his hands and knees.

“Can you spread your legs for me?” Thor asks, and Loki nods and bites his lip. They shuffle their limbs until Thor is on his knees, bent over between his brother's pale thighs.

Thor kisses the heavy tendons that run to the groin, turning his head left and right to paint them both with soft brushes of his lips. He can see the little stream of liquid that's been trickling out of Loki. It's soaking the sheets below.

He kisses the joints of Loki's inner thighs, nipping the crepey flesh and feeling fur brush his lips. He can feel Loki shifting beneath him, rising to meet his mouth. He moves inward half an inch. Now Thor's lips are grazing Loki's lips, all plump and hot and damp.

Loki makes a tiny sound. Shock and pleasure.

Thor keeps kissing and nuzzling and turning his head from side to side, making sure he doesn't play favorites with Loki's lovely flesh.

When Thor slides his tongue into the fold between the lips on Loki's left, Loki moans and spreads his legs wider. Thor can see the bare pink skin, made more pink by the diffused light of the sunrise filtering in as it bounces off of trees. Thor licks Loki's right lip and Loki makes a breathy grunt as he twitches.

Thor tips his head and sucks both of Loki's inner lips into his mouth at once. Loki keens and tips his hips up to press his pussy more firmly against Thor's face. Thor hums and rolls the flesh over on his tongue, slowly leaning his head back and letting the folds of skin spring free before grabbing them again and sucking them some more. On Thor's fifth dive into Loki's cunt he doesn't suck on Loki's pussy lips, but instead drags his tongue from Loki's taint to his clit, picking up the salty slick liquid flowing from Loki's pussy and swallowing it as he goes.

Loki arches and whimpers.

Thor does it again, more slowly, swirling and swerving his tongue as he ascends, noting the different textures that share these close quarters: silky and slick, pebbled and spongy, furry and firm, shriveled and soft, perky and tight. Loki's clit feels like a knot against Thor's tongue and Loki jerks and sighs as Thor gently laves and traces it.

Thor can hear his brother panting. Feel the breaths shaking the body beneath him. He puts his hands under Loki's rump to lift it slightly and then slides his tongue slowly into Loki's cunt. Loki makes a sound like a sob and then softly curses.

Thor fucks his brother with slow pushes of his tongue.

And this is perfect. No need for a condom. Thor can't get Loki pregnant like this. Just wet skin on wet skin. He's going to lick Loki until Loki is shaking.

“Don't stop,” Loki breathes, after Thor has been lapping at him for ten minutes.

Thor can feel Loki tensing and shifting, so he braces himself and keeps licking.

He can hear Loki's breath beginning to falter.

“Don't stop... don't stop...”  Loki chants, as his hips begin to jerk and his belly flexes before Thor's eyes.

Loki keeps twitching and Thor's tongue keeps moving until Loki finally sags against the bed and says okay.

Thor leans back to survey his work. The bed is soaked beneath Loki's bottom. Loki's skin is dark pink and shining. Thor leans in to watch the mouth of Loki's pussy as the muscles pulse with the aftershocks of Loki's orgasm. His tongue sneaks out to catch a drop before it falls to the sheets. Loki's flavor is slightly diluted when he's so wet like this.

Thor kisses Loki's left thigh and hums against the limp limb.

Loki wants to learn to suck Thor's cock once he's recovered.

It turns out to be easy and self explanatory and Loki is delighted by his nearly-instantaneous success: a mouthful of semen and Thor panting his name.

In the coming weeks they discover their preferred positions. Sixty-nine is an instant favorite. And then spooning. They had both thought that making love belly to belly would be the front-runner, and they love it madly. But when they slotted together like spoons on a lazy Sunday morning, they were stunned by the intimacy of the position. And the contradictions. Thor's belly was shielded by his brother's body, but his back was exposed. Loki could feel Thor against his back, but his front was wide open. He lifted his right leg toward his chest to cover himself slightly, but it left him open in a new way: Thor reached down beneath his thigh and rubbed the slippery folds of his pussy until Loki came, clenching and fluttering around Thor's cock.

Spooning becomes their favorite thing to do.

Sometimes they both stroke Loki's pussy together and their fingers brush over the place where their bodies are joined, feeling the edge of Loki's vagina stretched tight around the furry base of Thor's cock.

After a month of lovemaking, Thor comes home to find Loki asleep in his old bedroom. Thor doesn't want to wake his brother, so he goes about his routine, going to the bathroom and grabbing a tissue to blow the sawdust out of his nose. When he bends to throw it away, he sees something odd in the trash can.

He tips his head to read the lettering on the box.

A pregnancy test.

Thor's heart panics in his chest and he starts to sweat as he reaches down to fish the little stick from the garbage.

It's negative.

Thor nearly weeps with relief and then goes to comfort Loki, who has most likely just had one of the worst days of his life.

Thor curls up behind his brother on the tiny bed and Loki slowly stirs.

“What happened?” Thor asks.

“It's stupid,” Loki says.

“No it isn't,” Thor whispers.

“My period was a day and a half late,” Loki sighs. “Which is nothing. But it's never happened before - I've been running like a Swiss watch since I was seventeen – so I freaked out.”

Thor nods and gives Loki a squeeze.

“It came three hours after I took the fucking test,” Loki snorts, and Thor kisses the back of his brother's head and rubs his bloated belly.

They settle in to sleep until it's time to eat.

The following Saturday night, they have a quiet dinner of quiche and, when they finish, Thor asks Loki to wait at the table while he gets his laptop.

“We need to talk,” Thor says, and Loki starts crying, certain that this it the We Can't Keep Doing This conversation that he's been dreading from day one.

“Hey. Hey,” Thor murmurs. “What's wrong?”

“You're leaving me.”

“No,” Thor says, voice fond but firm, and Loki stares at his brother with wide eyes. “I want to show you something,” Thor says.

Thor opens several files on his laptop.

Loki sees plans for travel.

Budgets based on several different circumstances.

Floor plans for a house.

“What do you see?” Thor asks.

“Your future.”

“Look closer,” Thor says, shaking his head.

The floor plan is not for a whole house.

“That's the layout of the kitchen I said I wanted when you asked me to draw up a good one,” Loki sniffles.

“And what don't you see?” Thor asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you see children in the budget?”

“No,” Loki says, softly.

“And do I like to cook?” Thor asks, gently.

“No,” Loki smiles.

“My health insurance would cover all but about two hundred dollars-worth of a vasectomy. They don't even make incisions anymore – they just poke two holes, pull the vas through, snip it, and stitch you shut. I made an appointment for three weeks from Monday. The job I'm on will be finished by then and you'll have the day off if you wouldn't mind driving me. And then I'll be on vacation for two weeks.”

Loki is crying again, but he's nodding and sobbing, “Of course I'll drive you,” and climbing into Thor's lap.

They sit, slowly rocking and holding each other.

“You really don't want kids?” Loki whispers. “You'd be such a great dad.”

“I don't like this world enough for that,” Thor says, shaking his head. “And life is so fucking short. I just want to spend it with you.”

Loki takes a vacation that coincides with Thor's vasectomy and recovery.

He's slightly nervous, because surgery is always potentially dangerous, but it's local anesthetic, and it's a simple and common procedure.

Thor seems almost entirely like himself when he comes out, but he's walking very slowly and carefully. Loki helps him to the elevator and pulls the truck up to the door.

Thor can't shower for two days.

Loki gets dry shampoo for Thor's hair and frozen peas to put on Thor's bruised and swollen scrotum. He gets to bathe his brother with a bowl of hot water and a sudsy washcloth. He likes it and wonders why he never did it before. Caring for Thor's body brings him a sense of fulfillment akin to the one he gets from cooking.

Thor isn't allowed to ejaculate for a week, so they snuggle and kiss and watch movies for the first half of their vacation. It makes them feel like boys again. No work, no school, no schedule: just lying around with their love.

After that, Thor gets all the blowjobs he wants. They've been avoiding vaginal sex ever since the pregnancy test scare to spare Loki the stress. Thor still won't be sterile for months, and he'll have to get the all-clear from his urologist before they can have unprotected sex.

But Thor thought of something else to tide them over.

“If you hate it, tell me. Promise?” Thor says, shyly offering his brother a small box.

Loki cocks an eyebrow, peels off the paper, and opens the plain packaging.

Sex and Mischief. A tiny purple strap-on with a sleek black harness.

Loki had always been nervous about this prospect, fearful that Thor would want an enormous, veiny, hyper-realistic dildo – a reminder of the body Loki could never provide and desires he could never satisfy. But this looks like any sex toy, and the size is familiar – it's a match for Loki's index finger, which is well-acquainted with the interior of Thor's ass.

Loki smiles.

And Loki loves it. To fuck into Thor while Thor whimpers and bites his lips beneath him, belly up and begging for kisses. To snap his hips the way his brother does when their places are reversed. To tilt his pelvis until the toy is hitting Thor's prostate and Thor is whining and frantically scrabbling between their bellies to fist his cock.

Sometimes Thor waves his ass in the air while he's on his knees and elbows in bed, looking back over his shoulder and grinning. And Loki rolls his eyes and shakes his head, trying not to look too fond, but he's shedding his clothes and stepping into the strap-on just the same.

The holiday season is busy for Loki. Every year his special orders for custom truffles have increased. There's the usual massive request from Odin's firm for the holiday party. But more and more of Odin's coworkers want them for their own get-togethers and to send out as gifts.

Loki's boss lets him use the bakery for the price of electricity and gas, which is a better deal than he could ever hope to find at one of the professional kitchens that rent time in their facilities – and none of those work with Loki's schedule. After his shift at the bar, he goes to the bakery early to work on his own projects. As Christmas draws closer, he even goes in on his days off when they bakery is normally closed.

Thor misses his brother madly.

He doesn't get to see Loki until they go home for Christmas, and then they have to be careful, knowing their parents will be able to see them more clearly than anyone else.

They fall back on their childhood routine. Thor follows Frigga around and Loki tails Odin.

Frigga has been weaving on her mother's old loom and her work was accepted into the American Craft Council's Baltimore show, so she and Thor are scheming about a booth. Thor takes notes about what she needs in terms of wall space for her weavings, and what she'll have for floorspace. What she'll need for lighting. Storage. Desk space. They're up late every night, working on layouts and calculating the raw materials they'll need.

Loki keeps to the kitchen, making tiny batches of cookie dough and baking just a couple of each type at a time, then sitting there and eating them with his father.

“You look like you could use those cookies,” Odin notes, tickling Loki's tiny waist as he walks to the fridge to get them some beers.

“I know,” Loki sighs. “I've been so busy with all the special orders. I've done nothing but work and sleep for the last month.”

A week ago Loki woke to his brother's worried face and the whispered words. Baby, I can see all your ribs. You need to take a break. Loki had assured Thor that things would calm down after Christmas.

“I think everyone at the firm has come up to tell me how happy they are with the truffles,” Odin says, beaming. “You should go into business.”

“I think I might have to,” Loki agrees. “I don't have time for a job.”

“Bacon and eggs?” Odin asks, and Loki smiles and nods.

He's always liked his parents' cooking best, even after all his training. It tastes like home.

Odin uses a suicidal amount of bacon-grease when he cooks the eggs. They're incredible.

The next day, Frigga pulls Loki into his old room to take his measurements for new bandeau bras. She frowns.

“I know,” Loki sighs. “Too thin. Dad is downstairs making Suprȇmes de Volaille à l'Ecossaise as we speak.”

Frigga pulls him in for a hug.

“Feeling okay?” she asks, and he kisses her forehead and rests his cheek on her temple.

“I need to quit at least one of my jobs and start doing what I actually trained for.”

“You should,” she says, patting his bottom. “I put on two pounds after you sent those goodies for your dad's birthday. And he put on three.”

“Sorry,” Loki snorts.

And Loki was right – after Christmas, it is calm. There are a few orders for New Year's parties, but beyond that, it's quiet.

Thor works in Erik's wood shop for a couple hours every week night, and all day on Saturdays, building Frigga's booth for the ACC show. When he has it finished, Dr. Banner lets him keep it in the garage. It folds down to nearly nothing. Loki is impressed and tells Thor to print business cards for Frigga to hand out if anyone asks where she got her display.

At the end of January, at noon on a Monday, Loki hears Thor's truck pull in the driveway. Three minutes pass and Loki still hasn't heard the car door open and close. He looks out the window and sees Thor sitting in the cab on the phone. He guesses Thor is coming to visit him on his lunch break for a quick fuck and he grins.

But then Thor gets out of the car carefully and stiffly with a frown on his face. Loki hears his brother's footsteps coming up the stairs too slowly.

“What happened?” Loki breathes, when Thor comes through the door.

Thor tries for a smile, but it's too straight and too tight.

“This is probably the most common injury in carpentry,” Thor says, and Loki's face falls.

Thor takes off his shirt and Loki sees bloody gauze taped to the front and back of Thor's left love-handle.

“A nail-gun,” Loki whispers, face going taut and eyes welling over.

Thor nods once.

“You're not going back there,” Loki says, body rigid and fists clenched. “I don't care if I have to steal your keys and chain you to the bed.”

“I know,” Thor says, softly. “I gave notice a minute ago.”

“In the car,” Loki realizes. “What did Erik say?”

“He said I was welcome to come back if I changed my mind. Said he hoped I wasn't through with carpentry. I said I wasn't, but that I'd be working by myself if I could swing it.”

Loki drops to the floor and weeps his relief onto his lap for a minute before giving a final sniff and asking Thor what he needs.

Thor goes to the Craft Council show with his mom. He drives there with the booth in the back of the truck so they don't have to ship it and rent a van.

The holes in his side have healed enough that he can help with set-up, and he hasn't figured out what he wants to do for work, so he has the time.

He watches Frigga's artwork while she takes breaks and visits the other exhibitors.

Thor is an excellent and effortless salesman. His beauty lures people in, and his enthusiasm keeps them there. He knows what his mother does, and how and why.

She stands in a booth across from her own, behind her son, and listens to him. Watches people fall under his spell.

Her work is sold out by the second day. There are little red dots next to every piece. Now people are asking if they can place orders, and Thor is explaining that process.

When the show is finished, Thor has to go house-hunting. Fandral is a realtor, so that makes it easier. The twins agreed that they'd like to move back to New York to be closer to their parents – and to the bulk of Loki's customers. Loki's only stipulations were that the yard had to be big enough for a full-size beach volleyball court and the property zoned for business.

Loki stays in Chicago and works, building up his savings as best he can before they have to close on a house.

Thor finds a place with bones he can work with and asks Erik for recommendations when it comes to carpenters in that area.

They move in April.

Frigga and Odin are excited that the kids will be less than three hours away and that trips to the airport will no longer be necessary.

Their mom helps them gut the house, taking down the ghastly seventies flocked wallpaper and painting everything a clean eggshell shade. She gives them some of her mother's weavings to put on their walls for texture and color. She also gives them a ludicrously generous check that they try to refuse - she put what she needed from her craft show earnings back into her business, but she has no need for the profits.

Thor uses the money to get his own tools. Loki was right, exhibitors were interested in the booth he built for Frigga, and orders start coming in. Loki makes a website for Thor so that he can post pictures of his designs and let people know what he's capable of.

Odin gives the twins gift cards to Home Depot and Amazon. Loki outfits his kitchen and gets his licenses. He makes a website for his confections. Odin sends the link to his coworkers, who spread it like plague. Orders for birthdays, anniversaries, parties, and business functions begin to come in from across the country.

The house is bare for weeks as the twins get into a rhythm.

But they can both sleep at night. They can keep the same hours. See each other at mealtimes. And Loki finally gets out in the sunshine. In their spare time they practice their serves, sets, and volleys in the soft white sand.

They buy another king-sized mattress for Loki's room and Thor builds a frame for it. Beyond that, they like to get everything at estate sales and antiques markets. Furniture that has already weathered lifetimes feels more reliable to them, and tends to have been better made to begin with. Thor has a good eye for sturdy pieces, and Frigga helps him with reupholstering them when they need it.

Loki keeps up with his old cooking blog, answering questions. He begins to photograph demonstrations of basic techniques. Then he does youtube videos. His voice lures viewers as much as his lessons do. And his “lovely assistant” doesn't hurt; Loki often enlists Thor's aid when he's filming, and the two of them take turns handing off the camera, or stirring. They never show their faces. Just two gorgeous voices and a frequently-topless Thor-torso.

Loki gets a ludicrous number of subscribers. And heartfelt thanks - his videos are funny and helpful.

In June, Thor smiles and slides an envelope across the dinner table after he and Loki have finished their ice cream.

Loki opens it and rumples his brow for a minute before he understands what he's seeing.

Medical test results. Urologist's office. No more sperm cells in Thor's semen.

“Oh my God,” Loki breathes, and Thor beams at him.

“We still don't have to, though,” Thor says. “Or we can keep using condoms if you think it would ease your mind.”

“Pffff,” Loki snorts. “Get out of those clothes and get in my bed, Thor.”

They all but race upstairs.

They're both giddy, rolling around in each other's arms, kissing and grinning, no longer nervous about where Thor's penis is and whether or not it's dripping. No longer worried about whether there might be semen on their fingers when they're touching Loki's pussy.

Loki tugs Thor on top of himself and wraps Thor's waist in long legs. The low sun coming in the west window warms Thor's back and paints Loki's shins.

Thor takes his cock in his hand and slides the smooth head through the folds between Loki's legs, starting at the entry to Loki's vagina and gliding up, painting Loki's pussy with its own juices and tickling Loki's clit.

“It's so smooth,” Loki marvels, remembering the strange friction that always accompanied condoms.

The difference is even more striking when Thor eases his fat prick into Loki's tight cunt.

“Fuck,” Loki breathes. “This is so much better. Your skin is-”

“It's almost like it was made for this,” Thor teases, and Loki laughs, punishing Thor's prick with the flexing of his belly.

“When I'm feeling whimsical, I tell myself one of us had to be male and one of us had to be female so that we could fit together like this,” Loki whispers, smiling at the ceiling and panting lightly.

Thor buries his face in his brother's neck.

Loki assumes – correctly – that his brother is crying, which is fine. Thor usually laughs until he cries, and this is along those lines.

Loki rubs his brother's back and caresses his fuzzy blond butt until Thor starts sucking on his neck and shifting his hips in a sultry rhythm.

And after Thor has wrung all sorts of lovely sounds from Loki's long throat, Loki finally gets to feel it - the hot wet pulse of semen against his cervix. His eyes go wide.

And Thor gets to fall asleep after his orgasm, snoring into Loki's shoulder as his cock slowly softens inside Loki's body. Thor wakes when he feels his penis slipping out and hoists himself up on his arms to watch as his body leaves his brother's.

Creamy fluid follows, and Thor bends to catch it like he's drinking from a fountain. Loki whines. Thor remembers his manners and licks his brother through to an orgasm, fucking him with two fingers as his tongue works Loki's clit. Afterward, Loki sucks Thor's fingers clean, wanting to know what he tastes like inside.

Loki can smell Thor's come between his legs every time he takes off his underwear. The scent is still there almost twenty four hours later, but then they have sex again, so Loki can't yet be certain how long the scent lasts after one round.

Loki thinks of Thor's semen as something more essential now that his brother is sterile. Like seawater. Or rain.

Loki soon finds that he likes to impale himself on Thor's morning wood. To slide up and down on that perky pink erection while its owner is still sleepy and sluggish.

Loki can lie there and look at his brother for ages. It never gets old. It's even fun when Thor falls asleep. Loki watches Thor's eyes dart back and forth beneath his lids and then flexes his vagina until Thor's lashes flutter and he groans, slitting his eyes to glare at his pest of a brother. Loki likes to hold Thor this way. Like they have an umbilical cord joining them. A nerve connecting their brains and beaming little electrical impulses back and forth between them.

That last latex border is finally gone and their bodies are a blur.

They've given each other themselves.

Loki has a cock and balls now, with broad shoulders above them. Has Thor's height and strength. Gets to know the weight of all that muscle. Gets to watch semen pulse out the tip of Thor's prick. Gets to taste it. Taste all of Thor's skin. Feel the texture of the hair. Smell him at all hours.

Thor has perky little breasts and a warm wet cunt. Has Loki's smooth skin. His soft stomach and creamy thighs. His endless capacity for orgasms. His musical voice and graceful fingers. His tiny waist and delicate features. His wild laughter and steel-trap of a mind.

On Sunday morning, Loki starts bouncing on Thor's cock while Thor smiles in his half-sleep. The sky is dark for nine am. Loki looks over his shoulder out the window and makes a low pleased sound.

“What is it?” Thor murmurs, opening his eyes and fitting his hands to Loki's hips.

“Storm rolling in,” Loki smiles.

Thor tugs his brother down and they hum at the thunder as they tumble across the sheets.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please pretend commenting is turned off and please don't repost


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